


Destruction in Their Wake

by SterekHalelinski



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Canon, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, BAMF Stiles, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Canon Related, Canonical Character Death, Dark, Dark Stiles, Derek Feels, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Soulmates, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Edgeplay, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fox Stiles, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Jealous Derek, Knotting, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Mating, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Minor Relationships, Mpreg, Multiple Personalities, Nipple Play, Nogitsune Effects, Nogitsune Trauma, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Original Character(s), Other: See Story Notes, Pining Derek, Plot, Plot Devices, Plot Twists, Plotty, Possessive Derek, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Reader-Interactive, Romantic Soulmates, Sensual Play, Sensuality, Series Spoilers, Shapeshifter Stiles, Shapeshifting, Slow Build, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Spoilers, Tearjerker, Temporary Character Death, Top Derek, Tragedy, True Mates, Void Stiles, Werefox Stiles, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, void!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterekHalelinski/pseuds/SterekHalelinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has magic, the inheritance of his mother’s cursed bloodline.  Being an empath is one of his many abilities—he can “read” soulmarks and can, if given the opportunity, tell more than just who someone is going to end up with.  He can glimpse into parts of their future; how they meet, and even as far as how they die.  It all just depends on how long he’s afforded contact with one of the matching marks.  Stiles read his once, against his mother’s warnings, and he now carries a heavy burden with him always.  </p><p>OR</p><p>The Teen Wolf and Supernatural crossover that nobody asked for.</p><p>OR</p><p>One serious mess of a fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unexpected Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to read all the authors notes at the beginning and/or end of each chapter, as they will often contain pertinent information regarding the story. Some of them might turn out to be monstrously long, but I promise that everything has its purpose.
> 
> Rating and a lot of the tags are for much later. This is a slow build/burn fic. More tags may be included as the story goes and I think of them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Approximately seventeen years after Mary Winchester's death, John and his boys unexpectedly drop by for a visit at her sister's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story came as inspiration after being unable to get the following three songs out of my head: “Roses” by The Chainsmokers (feat. ROZES), “Helena (So Long & Goodnight)” by My Chemical Romance, and “New Perspective” by Panic! At the Disco. Also, I am just purely addicted to writing tearjerk-worthy angst. Whether I actually succeed on that front, I’ll leave up to you readers to decide.
> 
> Important things to note:
> 
> I did some digging, and found the following birthdays for Derek (December 25, 1988) and Stiles (April 8, 1994). Not sure if that’s actually correct, but those are the ones I’m running with for this fic. As for the Winchesters, I’ll just list them for reference. Dean’s is January 24, 1979, and Sam’s is May 2, 1983. For this chapter, Stiles is 6, Derek is 11 (since his 12th birthday wouldn't have happened yet in October), Sam is 17, and Dean is 21. 
> 
> Also, [this](http://www.tattoobite.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/samurai-sword-wings-tattoo-sample.jpg) is the soulmark that is shared by Derek and Stiles in this story. On Derek, it’s on his shoulder (he still has the Triskelion on his back), while Stiles has an enlarged form of it on his backside. So basically it looks like he has wings on his back and the sword going along his spine. This takes greater significance later, and in this universe, soulmarks manifest themselves on individuals in different ways.
> 
> Oh, and there’s the matter of Stiles’ first name. I picked one that goes along with the parameters of starts with an ‘M’ and difficult to pronounce, but also relates to the soulmark design. The meaning and its significance, of course, will be discussed as the story progresses. I also make up a first name for Sheriff Stilinski as well, since I don’t think he has an official one in canon. At least, not one that I’m personally aware of, anyway. The choice I made for that is also intentional.
> 
> As for whether or not there will be Wincest, I’ll leave it up to a vote. Right now I’m undecided. Am I fan? Yes. However, I don’t want to include it if readers will find it too distracting. So I’ll give readers until the next chapter to sound off about that so I can figure out which road I’m going to take this fic down. 
> 
> I’m relatively new to the Teen Wolf fandom (but an old-timer to the Supernatural fandom, although it’s been a while since I’ve written anything for it—under a different username—which means I might be a little rusty), so apologies if I get anything wrong. Also, this is my first time ever writing these characters. Feedback much appreciated. Unbetaed, so mistakes here are all mine.

_Late October, 2000_

Stiles always had a bit of wanderlust. Perhaps it was a side effect of his ADHD. It would get him into a considerable amount of trouble in his later years. After all, he was son of a sheriff. However, it was nothing compared to the level of panic it would instill in his parents when he was younger. Especially for his mother. Claudia Stilinski.

Or Claudia _Campbell_ , as she was once known. Before marrying a man of Polish descent. It was on purpose, of course, marrying someone with that sort of pedigree. The accident had been the love, but that had been a happy one indeed. The kind at her doorstep now though, _that_ was terrifying.

“ _John_ ,” Claudia said tightly, recognizing her brother-in-law from anywhere, even if it had been so many years since she’d last seen him. _How did you find me here_ , she doesn’t say.

“Sorry to drop in on you like this,” John said, not sounding the least bit sorry at all as he clapped his hands on the shoulders of the two young men with him. “These are my boys. You remember them, don’t you? I know it’s been years and my youngest was just a baby when—well _anyway_ —this one’s Sam, and the taller one is Dean, my eldest.”

“Ah,” Claudia said, nodding, looking between her nephews as if noticing them for the first time. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

There was a hardness in the eyes of the older one, so much like his father. The younger one was clearly the favorite, as his eyes still reflected a bit of their shine. Not that she even really needed that much to know. She was a seasoned empath, after all. They just _knew_ these things. Claudia felt a tug of pity in her heart for the older Winchester boy. Without another second thought, she pulled her two nephews in for a somewhat awkward embrace. What she saw almost made her recoil in disgust at their father, but she kept her stoic mask in place.

Empaths had the ability to read into most things aside from emotion; all it took was a simple touch. Younger empaths typically could only read one specific set of things, like heirlooms or artwork, or sometimes things even more obscure, like a cigarette box or a deck of cards. As long as it was either used often or held some kind of sentimental value for someone, it could likely be read. It took years to hone the skill, however, to cultivate it to the level those like Claudia had mastered it, where one could read any person or object just by touch. How much information one could glean, of course, depended on the length of contact. Although every once in a while, there was an exception like her nephew Dean. The damage her brother-in-law had apparently inflicted on his son was so great, it had only taken their brief hug for Claudia to learn everything she needed to know.

John Winchester had exposed his sons to demon hunting. Dean was both resentful and protective of Sam. Somehow, Claudia knew that her sister never would have allowed for such things. A sudden maternal duty surged through her on behalf of the deceased. Tight-lipped, she took a step back and addressed her nephews first.

“Why don’t you boys go on ahead inside and make yourselves comfortable upstairs,” she suggested. “You’re uncle’s out at work, but your cousin should be playing with his toys up in his room.”

She didn’t like how John’s eyebrows rose on his forehead. “You’re married.”

Claudia held up her hand bearing her wedding band and made a brief spirit finger-like motion. “Seven years now.”

“You have a son,” John said, not quite a question, and Claudia didn’t like the way the color seemed to drain from his face.

“Yes, things change,” she said, uncertain about why she suddenly felt the urge to fight or flight. “What of it?”

Her brother-in-law’s jaw tensed. “Boys, it’s all right,” he said. “You heard your aunt. Go on upstairs and meet your baby cousin.”

Knowing when to take a hint, Dean nodded and gruffly mumbled a few niceties to his aunt before taking Sam by the wrist and leading his brother up the stairs. It was only after she heard them go up that Claudia realized she hadn’t told them which room was her son’s, but she mused that it wouldn’t take them long to figure it out. After all, there were only so many rooms in their house. Besides, she apparently had bigger things to worry about, if the expression her brother-in-law was wearing was anything to go by.

“ _So_ ,” Claudia said, folding her arms defensively over her chest as she leaned against the door frame, eyebrows raised in question. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“I have something to tell you about you and your boy that involves Mary,” John said grimly. “And you’re not going to like it.”

Meanwhile, Sam and Dean were upstairs exploring the house. Or rather, Sam was poking about the place and Dean appeared to be very uncomfortable with his doing so.

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean said pointedly as his younger brother looked about curiously. “Don’t touch anything you don’t have to. It’s not ours.”

“Aw, c’mon, Dean! It’s no big deal. I’m putting everything back exactly where I find it,” Sam said with an easygoing grin. “Besides, Aunt Claudia seems nice. I didn’t even know Mom had a sister.”

“Not quite the point, Sammy.”

“Did you know?”

“I sort of remember her,” Dean said, grimacing. “I mean, just bits and pieces, here and there. I think she was around a lot when Mom...well, she stopped coming by at some point, and let’s just leave it at that. This is my first time seeing her in a little over a decade myself, so...I really know her just about as well as you do.”

“Mm...all right,” Sam said noncommittally in response before frowning. “Say, Dean…?”

“Yeah, Sammy?”

“I’m pretty sure we just walked through all of the rooms up here, right?”

“Hm? Yeah, I guess so, why?”

“You see a little kid walking around anywhere?”

“...”

“Dean?”

“Shit. You’re right. I didn’t,” Dean said, a frown of his own beginning to form on his face. “Think the kid went downstairs?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. His mom seemed pretty sure that we’d find him up here though. _Shit_...do you think he went out the window?” Sam asked, eyes starting to round.

“Language, Sammy,” Dean scolded. “And that sounds about as likely as a...as a box of cereal suddenly growing legs and running off somewhere. The kid’s like _six_ , Sam. Besides, none of the windows in any of the rooms were open, and I doubt the kid would have even thought about closing them behind him.”

Sam scrunched his nose. “First of all, you used the word first.”

“I’m older than you,” Dean countered. “Much older.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Second— _really_ , Dean? A walking box of cereal?”

“ _Running_ , Sam. I used the word _running_ ,” said Dean. “And give me a break! It’s not like I could say something like pigs flying or spirits taking over people, because well, you know...”

“Ah. Point made,” said Sam. “Well, then I guess we check downstairs?”

“Unless the kid isn’t down there either,” Dean grumbled. “And given that he’s not even up here, where he’s _supposed_ to be, I’m willing to bet that to be a likely scenario.”

Sam frowned. “Well, where else could he be?”

“I don’t know, Sam, but we’d better find him before his mom freaks out,” Dean said with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. “Jeezus. Never even met the kid before and already we’re on babysitting duty. All right, Sammy. Here’s what we’ll do. First, we’ll make sure Dad still has Aunt Claudia distracted.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. And?”

“Then we’re going to go search the rest of the house, as quietly as we can, and if we can’t find anything, well, then...I guess we see if there’s a back door or something that the kid could have gone out of,” said Dean. “Sound good?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“I’ll scout it out first,” said Dean. “Stay close to me and try not to make a sound.”

“I know.”

“Okay, come on then,” Dean said as he led the way.

The two brothers crept there way back to the top of the stairs where they heard adult voices coming from a different area of the home.

“ _Damn_ ,” Dean hissed. “I think they must have moved to the living room to talk or something. Front door’s closed too.”

“...so then I guess the kid’s probably not down there with them then,” said Sam.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean agreed. “Aunt Claudia would have probably called for us or sent the kid up.”

“Okay, so now what do we do, Dean?” Sam asked. “Maybe we should let them know.”

“Yeah, or we can find the kid and bring him back before anyone notices he’s missing,” said Dean. “No need to freak Aunt Claudia out unless we can’t make that happen. Besides, it sounds like she’s having a pretty serious conversation with Dad and I’d hate to interrupt that. You know how he can get.”

Sam crinkled his nose in disapproval. “Yeah, all right...I don’t like it, but fine.”

Dean sighed. “Listen, if we can’t find him... _then_ we come clean.”

“ _Or_ we could just do the responsible adult thing and just tell them both _now_...you know? Like hey, Aunt Claudia, not to freak you out or anything, but we _can’t seem to find your son_ , so...ugh, all right, you’re right. That sounds like a terrible idea,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I don’t want her to blame us for losing track of our cousin when we all barely know each other yet.”

“...right,” Dean said wryly. “Glad we’re on the same page then. Think the front door squeaks?”

“Not sure,” Sam said with a shrug. “I don’t remember it making a lot of noise when she opened the door for us though.”

“All right,” said Dean. “Well, if there’s any noise, I’m going to need you to make a distraction.”

Sam wet his lips nervously. “Okay…? Like what?”

“Pretend you need like a glass of water or something,” said Dean. “And act like you’re going to take it back upstairs, when really, you’re just going to follow me outside.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?” Sam asked.

“Jump out the window.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”

"No!  Why do _I_ have to be the one to jump?"

"Because if _I_ jumped, I'd crush you."

"And you don't think I'd break a few bones?!"

Dean frowned.  "What, you don't trust me to catch you?"

Sam groaned softly. “Suddenly, telling Aunt Claudia the truth is starting to sound like a pretty good idea again.”

“ _Sam_ _my_.”

“Ugh...yeah, yeah, all right...” Sam grumbled. “I hear you. Let’s go.”

“Good,” Dean said before quietly making his way down the stairs.

Fortunately, when he tried the door, the most noise it made was just the subtle clicks of turning the doorknob and the light hiss of friction as he pulled the door open. The sound wasn’t loud enough to travel back to wherever their father and aunt were talking. Dean motioned for Sam to come down the stairs, which he did. In minutes, the two boys slipped out of the house, closing the door behind them.

It wasn’t until they were several feet away from the house that Sam brought up a very valid point. “Wait, _stop_. Dean.”

The older man turned back towards him and frowned. “What?”

“We don’t even know what this kid looks like,” said Sam.

“I saw pictures in a few of the rooms we were in,” said Dean. “Unless Aunt Claudia has any other kids she hasn’t mentioned, there was only one boy in them. Brown hair, a few moles on his face...”

“Oh. Yeah,” Sam said with a nod. “I think I remember seeing some of him too then.”

“Okay? So let’s go,” said Dean, making his way towards the forested area behind the Stilinski residence.

“...what about his name, though?” Sam asked behind him. “I don’t think I remember—”

Dean bit back a groan. “She didn’t tell us,” he confirmed. “But we don’t need it. I mean _come on_ , Sammy…! We’re _hunters_. We’ll find him.”

His younger brother shook his head, unamused. “You did _not_ just compare this to a demon hunt, Dean.”

“Wasn’t trying to, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “I was just trying to reassure you that we’re perfectly capable of doing this, name or no name.”

“Why are we even going this way?” Sam asked.

“There’s no way the kid went out the front or we would have seen him,” said Dean. “This is the only other way. Now, I don’t know why on earth he’d want to venture off into the forest by his lonesome, but maybe the kid’s got an overactive imagination and thinks it’s _fun_. Too young to have any sense of fear.”

“If you’re right, then let’s hope he didn’t get too far,” Sam said solemnly. "No telling what's out there."

“Couldn’t agree with you more, kiddo.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

The Winchester boys were only partially right, of course. Yes, Stiles had gone out the back door, and yes, he had wandered into the forest with a sense of adventure, but no, he was not at all immune to fear. In fact, he was afraid right now. At some point, Stiles had tripped on the protruding root of a tree and he had fallen forwards with a smack, successfully knocking him out of his daydream.

At first, Stiles had looked about, confused and blinking. It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t actually trekking the Amazon jungle, like in that one kids movie he liked to watch all the time. It took him a few minutes after that to realize that he was completely lost, and there was an almost immediate sensation of cold sweat on his back.

Before sheer panic could really take hold though, the sounds of an animal in distress suddenly caught his attention. Ever the easily distracted child, Stiles suddenly became captivated with trying to pinpoint the source of the sound; curiosity overtaking fear. Recalling his father’s words about reducing the chances for startling animals, Stiles proceeded slowly and with caution. The only sounds he made were the ones that were unavoidable, like his nervous breathing and the light crunch of leaves underneath his shoes.

He eventually found the source of the noise, and his eyes widened in surprise when he realized what it was he was seeing. The groans of pain were emitting from a young black wolf, whose one hind leg was caught in a steel trap.

It didn’t notice him at first; it was in too much pain and Stiles had hidden most of his body behind a tree as he peered around it, trying to decide whether it might be safe to approach. It wasn’t until he made a sympathetic sound when the wolf yelped in pain that both of them froze—Stiles out of mild embarrassment from being caught, and the wolf in a state of high alert. For a moment, Stiles was mesmerized as he watched the wolf turn its head wildly about, scanning the area, wisps of smoke accompanying its rough pants filled with anxiety and trepidation.

Then its golden eyes honed in on where Stiles was hiding and the young boy held his breath in surprise. Guiltily, he stepped from behind the tree. The wolf bared its teeth and growled a little, but there was no real heat behind it, at least, not yet.

Cautiously, Stiles inched forward. Golden eyes flashed and the growls increased slightly in volume in warning. Stiles paid little heed and kept his gaze locked with the wolf’s on instinct.

“Hey...it’s okay...” he spoke softly as he continued to progress, ever so gradually and with arms outstretched before him in a non-threatening manner. “I just want to help...okay? Is that okay? Help?”

There was a flicker in the wolf’s expression, like it was suddenly a bit unsure. The low rumbles began to take on a bit of a whine as Stiles neared the trap.

“Looks like it hurts...” Stiles mumbled as he broke away his gaze for the first time so he could concentrate on loosening the steel trap. “Let me try… _nngh_ …!”

The wolf yipped as Stiles tried to loosen the trap just enough for its leg to wiggle free. Of course, the attempts weren’t really successful, as Stiles wasn’t really strong enough to do what he wanted. If anything, he was inadvertently causing more pain.

After a minute, Stiles shook his head and looked apologetically at the wolf. “I—I’m sorry, I…!”

Before he could say anything else, there was an unexpected interruption behind him.

“ _Shit!_ Get the kid away from him, Sam! That thing’s a werewolf!”

“What? _Hey…_!” Stiles yelped in surprise as he was suddenly swept off his feet.

The calm shattered and everything seemed to happen all at once. Suddenly, Stiles found himself in the arms of a stranger, and the little wolf in the trap was growling again, but this time with far more aggression.

“Put me down!” Stiles demanded, kicking and flailing about. “Somebody! Help!”

“Hey, hey, it’s all right!” the guy holding him said. “You’re all right, okay? My brother and I aren’t going to hurt you...”

Stiles gave up struggling for a minute to take a good look at who was talking to him. Before he could decide whether or not the person was worthy of his trust, he heard the sound of a barrel clicking and quickly ducked his head around to get a better look at the source of the noise. His eyes widened when he noticed the gun being aimed at the wolf Stiles had been trying to help just a moment ago. Immediately, Stiles resumed kicking and screaming.

“Stop! No! _Don’t!_ ” he cried. “Don’t hurt him!”

“We’re just keeping you safe, kid,” the man holding the firearm said.

“ _No!_ ” Stiles screamed. “He just needs help! Let. Me. _Go!_ ”

And with one last kick and push, Stiles was able to squirm out of the hold he’d been in. He hit the ground with a thud, but recovered quickly and stood up in front of the wolf, arms outstretched and blocking the way.

“Crap! Dean! Don’t shoot!”

The taller one named Dean frowned at Stiles. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Get out of the way, kid.”

“No!” Stiles said stubbornly before looking over at the other boy who’d been holding him. “Tell him no!”

“Look, kid, that’s a werewolf,” said Dean. “Werewolves? They’re bad.”

“He wasn’t going to bite me!” said Stiles. “He’s hurt!”

The other boy shifted on his feet uneasily. “Dean, maybe we could—”

“No, Sam. You know better,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Get the kid away from it so I can finish this.”

“You can’t!” Stiles exclaimed, ducking Sam’s hands as he tried to reach for him and closed the gap between himself and the wolf, throwing his hands around it. “Don’t hurt him more! Help him get out! Can’t you see? He just wants to get out!”

His actions caused the Winchester boys to blink in surprise. The wolf was watching them closely with its piercing golden eyes, but it made no sudden movements.

“It’s... _Dean_ ,” Sam said, looking at his brother questioningly. “What do we do? He doesn’t seem feral. Maybe we can help get it loose.”

The hand gripping the gun wavered a little. “I don’t know, Sammy...” Dean said, jaw tight. “No telling what it might do after.”

“He won’t hurt anyone!” Stiles insisted. He turned and pressed his forehead against the wolf’s and pet its fur gently with his hands as he murmured. “You won’t hurt anybody, will you?”

The wolf closed its eyes and gave a low rumble in response, pressing gently back against Stiles. The little boy turned and glared at the Winchesters, defiant.

“See!” he said. “He promised! Now can you help us?”

“Dean...we’ve got to get him back home,” Sam said quietly. “Before they find out we’ve all gone missing. This guy doesn’t seem all that dangerous. It would have bit the kid’s head off by now.”

“Or it’s just really intelligent,” Dean said with a frown, minding his usual language around the little one. He flicked out his tongue, wetting his lower lip nervously. “...all right. All right, fine. We’ll get it out. Here. Take my gun. You make sure to shoot it if it tries anything funny.”

Sam nodded, but took the gun reluctantly. “Yeah...yeah, okay, Dean.”

The older of the two brothers then stepped forward, eyes narrowed, muttering under his breath something about how this was probably one of the worst decisions he was about to make. Stiles turned his head and stared pointedly at Dean.

“No hurting him, okay?” he said.

Dean sighed just as he gave his younger brother a withering look over his shoulder. “You two are an awful lot alike, you know that?”

Sam merely shook his head and shrugged helplessly in response. Dean turned back to the task at hand. Grimacing, he placed a hand on either of the two springs and forced them down to open up the jaws. The instant he did so, the wolf whipped its leg out of the trap, its movements knocking Stiles over in the process. The kid bounced back on his feet immediately.

“I’m okay!” he said.

“Hey, watch it!” Dean said, eyes widening when the wolf got close to Stiles.

Had the wolf intended to kill, Sam would have been ready with the gun a beat too late. To their surprise, the wolf merely nuzzled Stiles gratefully, causing the boy to giggle.

“You be careful now, okay?” Stiles said as he ruffled the wolf’s fur.

Both Winchesters released the breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding when the wolf licked Stiles once in response before turning around and limping away, as fast as its uninjured legs could carry it. A brief silence settled among them. Eventually, Dean cleared his throat.

“Well,” he said as he somewhat absently accepted his gun back from Sam. “We’d better get you home, kid.”

At that moment, Stiles looked up at the two Winchesters curiously, as if finally really noticing them for the first time. He scrunched his nose.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Dean and this is Sam,” Dean said, as he gestured between himself and his brother.

“Oh,” Stiles said before looking down at his feet a moment, a small frown forming that was directed at himself. “...my parents say don’t talk to strangers.”

“We’re not—” Dean began, but faltered, since to some degree, they were. He tried again. “We’re your cousins.”

“What’s a cousin?” Stiles asked, looking up at the two brothers again.

Dean blinked. “Uh...”

“It means we’re your family,” Sam supplied helpfully.

“Oh!” Stiles said, accepting this explanation a bit more easily than he probably should have. “So not strangers!”

“Er...right,” said Sam. “No.”

“Okay!”

“All right, so now let’s get you home, okay kid?” Dean said, crouching down to Stiles’ level and spreading his arms apart. “What’s your name?”

“...Stiles,” Stiles said as he shuffled away from Dean.

Dean’s eyebrows raised in question as he watched Stiles gravitate towards Sam instead. Stiles tugged on Sam’s pant leg, signaling he’d like to be lifted.

“I like him better,” Stiles said by way of explanation, looking at Dean. “He didn’t try to kill anybody.”

“Wha—I was just…!” Dean sputtered.

Sam laughed as he scooped Stiles up. “Hear that, Dean? He likes me better,” he said playfully, sticking his tongue out at his brother.

Dean made an indignant noise in his nose. Sam laughed some more as they began walking back towards the Stilinski residence.

“He’s not all that bad,” Sam said to Stiles as he ruffled the kid’s hair. “Once you get to know him.”

“Mm...okay,” Stiles agreed reluctantly before peeking over Sam’s shoulder and sticking his tongue out at Dean.

The older Winchester rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, muttering under his breath something about how his baby cousin and little brother were a little too damn alike.

»»-------------¤-------------««

They had almost gotten away with it too, slipping back into the house unnoticed, only they were caught by Stiles’ father when they hit the front porch. Sheriff Jutrzejszy Stilinski’s gruff voice startled the Winchester boys right when Dean had been about to open the front door to the Stilinski home.

“Mind my asking who you two gentlemen are?” Sheriff Stilinski asked. “And why one of you is holding my son?”

“Hi Dad!” Stiles said over Sam’s shoulder with a grin. “These guys say they are family!”

“They did, huh,” Sheriff Stilinski said, looking skeptical.

He held out his arms for his son and Sam quickly complied. Stiles giggled as he changed hands.

“Yeah!” he said with a nod.

“That’s right, sir,” Dean said, immediately standing straighter and holding out his right hand in greeting. “The name’s Dean. Dean Winchester. And this here is my brother, Sam.”

Sheriff Stilinski shook Dean’s hand. “Winchester...now why does that— _ah,_ ” Sheriff Stilinski said, eyes widening slightly in recognition of the surname. He moved a pointer finger between the two brothers. “You both must be Mary’s boys.”

Dean nodded curtly. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, golly, son. It’s sure been a long time,” said the sheriff. “Almost seventeen years or so...isn’t that right?  My wife said that was about the last time you all have been in contact.”

“Give or take,” said Dean.

“Well, what brings you all out here?” asked Sheriff Stilinski.

“Our dad wanted to talk to Aunt Claudia,” Sam supplies. “We’re not exactly sure why, though.”

Sheriff Stilinski nodded. “Okay, well...why don’t we all head on inside, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean said as he stepped aside to allow Stiles and his father to pass.

“Claudia…? I’m home…!” Sheriff Stilinski called out as he walked inside.

His wife appeared a few moments later, along with their brother-in-law. “Oh! You've met the boys! I’m surprised I didn’t hear you all sooner.”

“They were outside with Stiles,” Sheriff Stilinski said.

Claudia raised an eyebrow in question. Dean raised a closed fist to his mouth as he cleared his throat.

“Erm...your son wanted to play outside,” he lied. “So we took him out there for a little.”

“...I see,” Claudia said, looking like she didn’t entirely believe him, but she let the matter slide.

“Mommy!” Stiles said, squirming in his father’s arms.

“Here, give him to me, Shane,” Claudia said, smiling as her son was transferred once more. She closed her eyes and nuzzled her face into her son’s hair, taking in a deep breath before pecking a kiss atop his head. “How is my little Mitchi?”

Stiles squealed happily in response, hugging his mother around her neck and kissing her there. “I love you, Mommy!”

“I love you too, sweetie.”

Her smile faded slightly when John placed a hand on her shoulder, grabbing her attention. “Remember what we discussed,” he said solemnly before turning his focus to his sons. “Come on, boys. It’s time to get going.”

The sheriff frowned. “Oh? Leaving so soon? Why don’t you all stay for dinner?”

“That’s right, John,” Claudia said with a nod. “Let the boys get to know each other for a while.”

John paused for a moment, and then nodded. “I suppose we could do that. It has been a long trip for us...what do you think, boys?”

“Food sounds great!” Sam said with a nod.

Dean looked away and shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“That settles it, then!” Claudia said with a smile. “I’ll go to the kitchen and whip something up. You boys go on ahead and settle in the living room.”

“Can I go play with my toys upstairs, Mommy?” Stiles asked.

“Of course, honey!” said Claudia. She turned to the Winchester brothers. “Would you two mind…?”

“No, not at all!” said Sam.

Claudia bent forward and gently placed her son on the ground. “Now you be good while you play with your cousins now, okay?”

“Okay!” Stiles said as he took hold of the hand Sam held out for him. “Come on!” he said excitedly as he pulled Sam along. “Come see all my toys!”

Sam laughed as he followed his younger cousin up the stairs. “Yeah, okay. Sounds fun.”

Dean, meanwhile, looked considerably out of place as he trailed slowly behind them.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Dean watched silently in the corner as Stiles and his brother played. Although left out of their games, he didn’t actually feel shut out by them. Rather, his observational role was totally voluntary. Dean couldn’t help but feel content watching Sam enjoy childish games with their cousin. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time Sam had been able to let his guard down this much; be able to have fun freely and without consequence. Their father had forced them both to grow up so fast after their mother’s death. It was something Dean always resented, and their father’s negative influence was something he always tried to shield his little brother from.

Every once in a while, Sam would remember him there, and he would shoot Dean occasional looks of uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be enjoying his time that much. Whenever he did though, Dean made sure to reassure him with a smile, to let him know it was okay. It worked pretty well—Sam would quickly return to his game and forget the anxious feelings from before.

It was like a dream, being at the Stilinskis. At some point, the boys were all called down for dinner, and the meal was mostly pleasant. There was a brief moment where Sheriff Stilinski started their father down a line of slightly uncomfortable questioning, but Stiles’ mother was quick to shut that down.

When the evening wound down, there were brief talks of the Winchesters leaving again. However, at the insistence of their relatives—Stiles included—it was decided that John and his boys would settle there for a while; get to know the family they were a bit distant from.

Eventually, Claudia and her husband set up the guest room for John and arranged for extra bedding in Stiles’ room for the boys. Stiles was amenable to Sam sharing his astronaut-themed bed, and Dean was more than willing to settle in a sleeping bag on the floor.

Once all the lights went out and the atmosphere of the house became mostly still, Sam dared to whisper into the night, careful not to wake the sleeping boy tucked between his arms.

“Hey, Dean…?”

His older brother had been staring up at the ceiling, an arm behind his head. He sighed a little before responding in a raspy voice of his own.

“What’s the matter, Sammy? Can’t sleep?”

“Oh. Um...no,” said Sam.

“Hm...” Dean hummed for a moment. “Something on your mind then?”

“Well...I guess,” Sam said, a bit more hesitantly than before. “I mean...a little.”

Dean let out another soft breath. “Alright, well...shoot.”

“Mm...I was just thinking,” said Sam. “About how nice Aunt Claudia and Uncle Shane are.”

Dean’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips. “Yeah,” he said.

“What...what do you think about Aunt Claudia, Dean?” Sam asked.

“What do you mean, Sam?”

“Well, I...” Sam paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words to say. “She made me think about Mom...”

This time Dean took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“Do you...” Sam started, trying to broach the subject carefully. He’d asked Dean about their mother before, sometimes a bit too eagerly, and whether or not his older brother reacted negatively to the questions really depended on his mood. “I mean, is she…?”

“Anything like her, you mean?” Dean said with a sigh. “Yeah, a little,” he admitted. “They’re sisters, Sammy.”

“Yeah...” said Sam. “Thought so. It’s nice. I’m really glad they’re letting us stay here. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

“...you and me both, kiddo,” Dean finally said after a while.

A brief silence settled between them. Then, just before Dean was about to drift off to sleep, Sam reached out to him once more.

“Is she…?” he asked softly.

“Hm?”

“Is she _really_ like her though?” Sam asked. “Aunt Claudia, I mean. Is she a lot like Mom?”

Dean let out yet another small sigh. “Yeah. I mean, like I said, they’re...they're a little similar, I guess. The way they smile and stuff.”

“Mm...” Sam mumbled, hugging his arms around Stiles a little bit as he thought. “I know they’re not exactly alike, but...I’m kind of glad, because it’s like...it’s like I have a chance to get to know Mom a little bit, you know?”

Dean quietly cleared his throat in response, eyes growing glassy and soon he was blinking back tears.

“Yeah...yeah, I know what you mean, Sammy,” Dean said in a bit of a choked whisper before turning over on his side. “It’s getting a bit late now though, huh? Why don’t we get some sleep?”

“...okay, Dean.”

“ _Good_ ,” Dean whispered softly, voice still a bit strangled. He closed his eyes and pulled the sleeping bag cover a bit more tightly around his body before allowing himself to start drifting off. “Sweet dreams, Sammy...”

Sam's voice was thick with sleep when he responded. "You too, Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first name I chose for Sheriff Stilinski, Jutrzejszy, is pronounced YOOT-SHEY-SHI, and it is Polish for “future” or “tomorrow.” I took the “SHEY” part of the pronunciation to get Claudia’s nickname for her husband, “Shane.” The sheriff will be referred to as such by others as well in this story. I know “John” is a popular first name choice for the sheriff in this fandom, but I wanted to do something different; partially because I thought it would be less confusing to have two Johns in this story.
> 
> As for Stiles, I have his first name as Mieczysław, pronounced MIE-CHIH-SWAV, which is Polish for “man of glory” or “sword of glory.” Claudia gets her nickname for her son from the “MIE-CHIH” portion of the pronunciation, hence how we get “Mitchi.” For the sake of this story, this nickname is extremely personal to Stiles. Very few people know it and, until my muse says otherwise, no one other than his mother is privy to it. Even his father is limited to calling him “Stiles.”


	2. Snapshots from the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes sure his family’s extended stay isn’t an opportunity wasted. Stiles makes friends with a boy named Scott McCall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thanks to all those who left kudos and feedback. It means a lot. Seeing as how no one voted whether or not they want Wincest, I’m assuming either people don’t care one way or the other or maybe it got lost in the notes (I had a LOT of setup notes first chapter), so I’ll leave that vote open for one more chapter.
> 
> This fic has, for lack of better phrasing, a shit ton of tags. Some won’t become relevant until much later, and there’s still also a chance more will be added as I think of things. You may have noticed all the alternate canon, not canon complaint, alternate universe, alternate timeline, etc. tags. Just to clarify and as a heads up; I will be borrowing elements from episodes of both Teen Wolf and Supernatural here and there, but a lot of this is not going to align with the happenings of either series. 
> 
> I found it a little bit funny how after Scott gets his bite, Stiles immediately just assumes “werewolf,” and believes the concept is real without a second thought. This is a lot of why I decided to incorporate the Winchesters into this storyline, since I feel like Stiles so readily believing in the mythical is due to having been exposed to it in some form previously, and the Winchester brothers is how I choose to present that.
> 
> I think I posted the first chapter of this story at like 2 or 3 in the morning. For those who read it immediately after it posted, I made a significant change to the ending, so please read it again. Like Stiles, I’ve got ADHD, and the ending scene I have now for chapter one was what I envisioned initially. When I wrote the first draft ending, I swore up and down in my head that I was forgetting something, but I couldn’t remember it to save my life. Then I woke up two hours later and I was like “OH” and fixed it. Fortunately, the hit count at the time was only like 8 or something, so only about that many people are at all affected by this to begin with. I also changed a few things in Sheriff Stilinski’s earlier dialogue for clarification and continuity purposes (seeing as the story is coming from my head, it all makes perfect sense up there, but I realize I can’t always assume that readers are following my train of thought).
> 
> Again, this is unbetaed, so mistakes in here are all mine. Shouldn’t be any significant changes again since I tried to be more careful before posting this time (it’s hard when my fingertips are moving faster than my brain sometimes), but don’t be surprised if on later read-throughs you see a minor grammatical or spelling mistake fixed here and there. I tend to read back over chapters I’ve written if I need a refresher as I’m writing the next one, to make sure things stay consistent, and occasionally I’ll find a glaring error here and there that I missed before that needs fixing. Ultimately it shouldn’t affect how the story reads at all; however, if there’s a huge change like what happened this time (by complete accident, I promise), I’ll be sure to post it in the author’s notes.

_June, 2001_

Dean knew better than to let himself get comfortable. He let Sam keep the illusion, though. While he still could.

The Winchester trio stayed with their relatives for several months longer than they usually did at any given place. Their father normally had them on the move every six months or so, but this time there was a very specific reason for their extended stay. Reasons which Dean was only given bits and pieces of. John was very good at that, after all, playing the selective filter.

He didn’t explain _why_ Dean had to teach Stiles about demons and monsters, or why he had to convince the boy that they were real. He also didn’t explain why Dean had to be discreet in his lessons, other than it would “upset his Aunt Claudia.” Which totally made sense, of course; what parent _would_ want their child to be taught such things when most of them would spend at least the first eight or nine years of their child’s lives trying to convince them that there was no such thing as the boogeyman? Still though, Dean couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion that there was more to this than his father was letting him in on. After all, John didn’t exactly have the best track record of being straightforward and honest with his kids. Not since their mother’s death. Dean knew that the two were related somehow—Mary’s passing and his father’s task for him to teach Stiles the basics of demon hunting—knowing how and where to get information, as well as how to put it to good use.

Not that any of it really seemed to be sticking. Trying to teach Stiles was an eye-opening experience for Dean; he came to realize how easy he’d had it with Sam, growing up. His younger brother had not only been a curious sponge, but a very focused one. In contrast, while Stiles may have been curious, it was difficult to keep his attention for more than a few minutes at a time. That was when Sam suggested they turn it all into a bit of a game.

“Really, Sammy?” Dean asked, making one of his signature looks of disapproval. “This is serious, what we’re trying to teach the kid. We didn’t have to make a game out of it with you.”

“I mean, it’s a steeper learning curve for him, isn’t it?” said Sam. “We’ve _seen_ these things, Dean. It’s not like either of us really had a chance to pretend they don’t exist.”

“Well, it’s not like they’re all Casper the Friendly Ghost either,” Dean said with a scowl. “They don’t make for good bedtime stories.”

“You know, Dean…?” Sam said, with a small quirk of his lips. “That’s actually not half a bad idea.”

His brother gave him a look of disbelief. “You can’t be serious...”

“We don’t have to make them scary!” Sam said, holding up his hands in defense. “Just interesting enough to keep him listening.”

“The kid’s going to get nightmares...” Dean muttered.

“Not if we make the stories informative in a fun way.”

“Oh great. So now we’re going to sugarcoat demons,” Dean grunted. “This is ridiculous...”

“Would you have a little more faith in my plan?” Sam asked. “Unless you have a better idea.”

“Call it a lost cause and tell Dad we tried our best?”

“Dean. Come on. That’s a terrible idea and you know it,” Sam said disapprovingly, shaking his head.

His older brother sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets in annoyance. “Alright, _fine_ ,” Dean said, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “What’s your plan, Sammy?”

Sam half-smiled. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s what I suggest we do...”

»»-------------¤-------------««

_October, 2000_

It was like reliving the past, and not in a good way. John had suspected, of course, when he found out Claudia was living under a different last name. Part of him had held out though, that perhaps she was just trying to start fresh, live under a new identity. All the while ignoring the fact that she hadn’t changed her first, not that it would have helped much anyway, even if that it had been her intent. You couldn’t really hide from demons.

Still, whatever irrational hope he had been harboring was shattered the instant Claudia mentioned her son. The minute he confirmed that his sister-in-law was married and that the child was indeed biologically hers, John felt his heart plummet into the pits of his stomach. _He was too late._

All he could offer her now was information, which could be power in and of itself. Thankfully, she had trusted him enough to let him into her home, to _listen_.

The Campbell bloodline had a curse. That much John had been able to glean in his last unsuccessful bout with the Yellow-Eyed Demon. The power that was passed down each generation attracted more trouble than the benefits could outweigh.

As he explained this, John watched Claudia’s expression go from neutral to tense, and by the time he was finished telling her everything he knew, she was looking rather grim. It was a strange thing, for all their differences in appearance, John couldn’t help but marvel a little at how reminiscent Claudia was of Mary in their mannerisms and how they spoke.

“So this _demon_ you’re hunting...”

“The Yellow-Eyed Man,” said John.

“...right,” Claudia said, the corners of her lips twitching downward. “The one that killed Mary.”

“Yes,” said John. “He was trying to get hold of my son, my youngest...but Mary stopped that from happening.”

“And losing her life in the process,” Claudia said faintly. “You’re telling me this because—”

“Are you absolutely certain that no one suspicious came into contact with your son between the minute he was born and his first year of life?” John asked.

“No. Not that I recall,” Claudia said with a slight frown.

Though she was speaking the truth, she couldn’t help the slight nagging feeling in the back of her mind, like she was forgetting something crucial. John sighed. Neither of them heard his boys slip out of the house, in that moment, through the front door.

“Well, maybe he didn’t get to you, then,” he said softly.

When he didn’t say anything further, Claudia raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to explain?”

John looked at her. “How much do you know about your family history?”

“I...” Claudia’s brows began to furrow together slightly in confusion. “I’m not entirely sure I understand what you mean.”

“Aside from the demon hunting,” said John. “How much do you understand about the powers you possess?”

 _Of course she knew_ , Claudia thought to herself, wondering what her brother-in-law was getting at. She was a Campbell. _They all knew._ The powers she possessed, they manifested in the men and women of her family differently. The women tended to have less variance in their abilities, and therefore typically assumed greater control over them. The men, on the other hand, generally experienced more difficulties in harnessing their powers. Especially the ones who were _pure magic_ , although they were rare. They were the ones that could command their powers through _sheer will_. However, this was less of a blessing and more of a curse. For if the family stories passed down by her parents and grandparents were to be believed, the last great-grand relative to possess such abilities was supposedly the one that started the Campbell lineage down the line of demon-hunting in the first place. The reasons for which were not necessarily known. She wondered if perhaps that was what her brother-in-law was referring to.

Claudia tilted her head slightly to one side. “...are you saying you know something I don’t?”

“You’re like beacons,” John said solemnly. “The moths...they draw to you all, like a flame.”

A chill went down her spine at that. “You think that my son…?”

“He has your blood, Claudia,” said John. “Just like my boys have Mary’s.”

He didn’t finish his thought, but he didn’t have to. Claudia heard what he was saying loud and clear.

“ _None of them are safe.”_

She suddenly felt very faint.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_June, 2001_

Dean decided quickly that he wasn’t very good with kids—he’d just somehow gotten lucky with Sam. He settled into the familiar role of silent, somewhat broody observer, as he watched Sam interact with their younger cousin subtly over the guise of reading a newspaper.

The plan was working a lot better than Dean would have liked to admit. Mostly because it was strange, watching his little brother play the role of the older one for a change, and partially because he, like their father, didn’t much enjoy being wrong. It left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth, Dean realized, because he was being inadvertently forced to admit that his younger brother wasn’t quite so little anymore; wasn’t as much in need of his constant protection.

Sam had gotten the boy to care about what they were trying to teach him regarding the mystical, by playing the daddy-hero angle. Something the Winchester boys had become jaded about somewhere down the line.

“Do you know what your daddy does for a living?” Sam had opened with, and smiled when the little boy eagerly nodded.

“Yeah!” said Stiles. “He’s the Sheriff!”

“That’s right!” Sam encouraged. “And do you know what sheriffs do, Stiles?”

“They catch the bad guys!” Stiles said, giggling. “My dad’s really good at that!”

“I bet he is!” said Sam. “I’m also willing to bet that you want to be just like him when you grow up, don’t you?”

Dean felt his brother’s eyes flit over to him briefly in worry when he tightened his grip on the newspaper he was pretending to read, causing a crinkling noise. He ignored Sam and continued to act as if he were deeply engrossed in his reading. Forget the fact that he hadn’t turned the page once since they’d settled in Stiles’ room already.

“Uh-huh! I do!”

The kid’s response recaptured Sam’s attention. Sam blinked and his reply was a bit unsteady as he tried to shake away distracting thoughts.

“That’s...good,” he said before quickly recovering upon registering that little light-brown eyes were looking up at him curiously. “I mean—would you like to learn, Stiles? How your dad catches bad guys, I mean.”

Stiles’ face scrunched a bit in confusion, like he couldn’t figure Sam out for a minute because of the constant changes in inflection and the older boy’s expression. He seemed to get over it rather quickly though, a smile breaking out on his face after a moment.

“Okay!”

Sam returned the kid’s smile with a warm one of his own. “Great! That’s why we’re going to use this.”

Dean watched from the corner of his eye as he watched his brother pull towards him a backpack containing supplies for the day’s lesson. He had made Dean run with him to the art store for a cork board and the library for printing, among other things.

Sam spread out some pictures of various mythical creatures—werewolf, banshee, vampire, hellhound—and began to explain the _game_ they were going to play. Stiles watched Sam intently and hung onto his every word.

“When a police officer gets a case,” Sam explained. “Sometimes there’s a lot of different pieces and they need to take a little time putting everything together.”

“Like a puzzle?” asked Stiles.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam said with a nod. “There isn’t always time to do something like this for every case, but—”

“Is this just for special cases?” Stiles asked. “Like ones that are really, really hard?”

Sam’s eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and pride. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re getting it. Good job figuring that out!”

Stiles grinned. “Mommy says I’m pretty smart.”

“You sure are!” said Sam. “Now let me show you how this works.”

Dean continued to listen quietly as Sam showed Stiles how to pin pictures of the creatures on the cork board, and how to wrap a bit of yarn around each pin, lacing it around another one if the kid felt like there was a connection, based on the clues he was provided.

“So at the end now, what do you get?” Sam asked as he and Stiles finished laying out all the pieces. “Who’s the bad guy?”

Stiles’ brows furrowed together slightly as he thought. “Um...the one in the middle, right?”

“That’s right!” said Sam.

“But...” Stiles said, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. “That’s a werewolf.”

Dean looked up fully from his paper then. Sam blinked.

“...yes,” he said, almost sounding unsure of himself.

Stiles shook his head. “That’s not right.”

Sam opened and closed his mouth like a fish, clearly unsure what to say. “Uh...” he eventually settled for.

Stiles looked up at Sam with a surprisingly unreadable expression in his eyes for a seven-year-old. He pointed a little finger at the picture of the werewolf at the center of the cork board.

“That one looks scary, but I don’t think it’s right,” he said. “Werewolves aren’t bad.”

The comment made the Winchester brothers exchange a quick look. Apparently the kid hadn’t forgotten the forest incident from almost eight months ago. Dean shifted in his seat, ready to intervene after seeing the panic reflected in his younger brother’s eyes.

Sam quickly shook his head at Stiles. “I...I’m sorry, Stiles. I didn’t mean…”

Stiles suddenly seemed very preoccupied with his hands as he fidgeted. “Mm...it’s okay,” he said finally. “But...I don’t think I want to play this game anymore.”

Big brother Dean chose that moment to swoop in, and he lifted a downcast Stiles into his arms carefully. “Aw, that’s okay, kid...” he murmured softly while patting Stiles’ back gently. “We’ll just call it a day for now, yeah?”

“...okay.”

Dean half-smiled when Stiles buried his face into his shoulder. “Tell you what...” he said, glancing down at the boy. “We’ll pick a different bad guy tomorrow instead. One that’s...actually bad.”

He could feel Sam’s questioning gaze on him then; his younger brother knew how much it had probably taken him to ground out words he firmly believed were a lie. It worked though. Stiles still didn’t yet have the polished discerning abilities of his mother. In fact, he wouldn’t even become aware of the extent of his own abilities for another few years, for better or for worse.

Stiles pushed against Dean’s chest so he could look up at the older man. “You promise…?” he asked, and Sam’s heart warmed upon seeing the expression the kid bore on his face there.

He knew that look. It was the same one he gave Dean every time he forgave his brother for something Sam felt that he did wrong. It meant _truce_.

“Yeah, kid...” Dean said gruffly, ruffling Stiles’ hair a bit. “That one I can.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

_October, 2000_

“What do you think about letting them stay for a while?” Claudia asked her husband.

They were in the kitchen preparing dinner together. Stiles was upstairs playing with the boys, and John was waiting in their living room. Sheriff Stilinski glanced over at his wife while peeling an avocado for guacamole.

“You going to tell me what this is about?” he asked.

“No,” Claudia replied honestly, giving her husband a bit of a tense smile.

The sheriff nodded and leaned over to peck his wife on the forehead. “Okay.”

Claudia quirked an eyebrow. “Just okay?”

Her husband chuckled softly as he removed the large pit and disposed of it in the trash. “Okay, they can stay as long as they need to, honey,” he said.

Claudia stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him. “...I know you must have a lot of questions.”

“And whatever the answers to those questions are, I know that you’ll tell me if and when I need to know,” the sheriff replied, meeting her gaze. “You told me your family history is complicated...you and John seem like you both have a lot to discuss.”

“We do,” Claudia confirmed.

The sheriff nodded. “So I figure...if there’s a reason you want them to stay, then it must be a really good one. I mean...it’s not like I see that there’s anything wrong with it. The boys seem perfectly nice, and they get along great with Stiles.”

Claudia smiled a little at that. “Yeah...they really do get along well, don’t they?”

“Mmhmm,” Sheriff Stilinski acknowledged before resuming his task. “Who can pass up a little free babysitting? Besides, it’s still early in the school year, so at least John’s younger boy has a shot getting adjusted to a new school. Moving to a new place at the start of your senior year can be rough.”

He let out a laugh when Claudia wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his neck. “Mm...have I ever told you how much I love you?” she asked with a smile.

She moved back when her husband lifted his arm to pull her into a more mutual embrace. “Only everyday, sweetheart,” the sheriff said with a smile. “I love you too.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

_February, 2001_

Scott McCall moved to Beacon Hills with his family a few months into the new school year. The first time Stiles met him, it was just after he’d been dropped off by Dean in John’s Chevy Impala. Which, needless to say, earned the Winchester some disapproving looks by a few overly conservative parents who wrongfully assumed Dean to be a teenage parent. Dean, who seemed well aware of what they were probably thinking, decided to have fun with it all and rolled with it. In true Dean Winchester fashion, he winked at a group of younger mothers before driving away, leaving most of them flustered, with a few emitting scandalized gasps. Stiles, of course, was completely oblivious to what just happened, and pretty much wandered his way through the halls of the elementary school for a while before remembering which classroom it was he was supposed to go into.

Just a few minutes into class, Stiles became acquainted for the first time with Scott McCall. The teacher had called all the students in the classroom to attention shortly after the first bell so that she could introduce to them their new classmate.

“Class? Everyone say hello to Scott. He and his family just moved here to Beacon Hills, and today is his first day. Now say hi, Scott.”

“Oh...um...h-hi everybody...” the little brunette boy said. “I-I’m Scott.”

There was something about the way he was so fidgety under the gaze of so many curious six and seven-year-olds that caused Stiles’ lips to curl upward at the corners in a smile. He liked the other boy instantly.

“Hi Scott!” he said brightly, popping up from his seat. “I’m Stiles!”

Dark-brown eyes lifted to meet caramel ones. “Um...hi, Stiles.”

Scott looked surprised when Stiles waved at him enthusiastically. “Come here! Sit next to me!”

Scott looked up at their teacher, somewhat uncertain, but smiled a little when she nodded in encouragement. Scott quickly walked over to sit beside Stiles, and the other boy wasted no time launching right into it.

“You want to be friends?” Stiles asked.

Scott blinked. “Um...sure!”

He was slightly in awe of the blinding smile Stiles gave him in response, not expecting the boy was capable of giving him one that was even brighter than what he’d shown Scott just moments ago. The boy was clearly a force of nature. He also learned rather quickly that Stiles could talk. A lot. He didn’t mind it at all though.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_October, 2000_

Empaths were typically sensitive to anything they touched, but they could only _read_ things if they intended to. This was a good thing, of course, for otherwise their abilities had the potential to drive those with such gifts crazy. After all, it would be rather difficult for one to function if every little thing they touched flooded their minds with its history, current state, and future status.

An empath didn’t need permission. An empath could just _take_ the information they wanted, and only one aware of their powers would even be able to sense the difference between probing and something as ordinary as a hug or handshake. There was no tingle to alert the other party, no visible sign on their person to let on about what it was they were doing, not unless the empath was completely awful at maintaining a poker face. This made them great allies or formidable opponents, in the context of battle.

Despite having all this power, however, there were certain boundaries that Claudia generally kept to. First—to not probe someone for information without their permission or knowledge. This, she broke when she embraced her nephews for the first time in almost two decades, when she felt she had to confirm what she saw in their expressions. _For her sister_ , was how she had rationalized that breach.

Today, she was about to break the second—to not read her son’s soulmark. She had wanted the whole thing to be a surprise, just as she assumed her son would also want it to be, once he was old enough to understand what the marking on his back was, but her conversation with John was enough to unsettle her. She needed to know.

Claudia watched as her son slept peacefully, tuckered out from that afternoon’s activities. In a couple hours she needed to be preparing dinner for the household and rousing her son from his nap. Part of her wanted to continue living in blissful ignorance, but a greater part of her desired to protect her son, and it was that part that won out.

Slowly, she drew her fingers underneath her son’s collar to touch upon the edges of the mark on her son’s backside. Then, she took in a short breath and concentrated. What she saw was nothing at all what she had anticipated. A tiny fragment of hope within her had held out for something better, but what she saw was something far more worse than she’d feared.

She didn’t realize she’d been screaming until her husband’s shakes snapped her out of her visions. When her eyes came into focus, she saw the terror reflected in his.

“What? What is it, Claudia?” Sheriff Stilinski asked. “What’s wrong?! What happened?”

She barely registered her son’s cries—Dean had, at some point, taken her son from the bed and was now just outside the hall, bouncing her son up and down in his arms, murmuring something in attempts to soothe him. His brother Sam was right beside him, trying to help his brother in calming her son down. Claudia threw her arms around her husband, trying to choke back her sobs. Over his shoulder she saw John, standing in the doorway, looking somewhat at a loss at first until apparently he found something in her expression. Her brother-in-law then nodded in response to whatever it was he had seen before slowly backing out of the room and shutting the door behind him, to allow Claudia and her husband some privacy.

Claudia was never able to explain to her husband what it was that had caused the sudden outburst. She had kept him in the dark of all things supernatural, and she intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. She resolved to figure it all out somehow, and she was confident she would. She was no different from her sister in that regard. Even equipped with such terrible knowledge, she was quite certain that her son’s destiny could be changed; however, she wasn’t so naïve as to believe that she wouldn’t need help. She would need John and the boys to stay, at least for a little while.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_Late August, 2001_

It was funny how, no matter who it was you talked to, among those who interacted with Stiles over the course of his life, they were all in agreement over one thing. As bad as it was to see anyone cry, it was ten times worse when the person crying was Stiles. No one ever knew what to do.

Scott had gotten to know the Winchesters briefly, in passing. He came over to Stiles’ house a few times, but he generally wasn’t allowed over much at the time because apparently John had a thing about keeping his sons and himself a fair distance away from outsiders unless interaction turned out to be absolutely necessary. This arrangement worked perfectly fine though for Scott, because he honestly found that John Winchester gave him the willies.

He wouldn’t for long though, Scott found out one day, towards the end of summer, when Stiles came over to visit him for a change. He was completely distraught. Apparently, Stiles’ uncle and cousins were packing up and leaving town, and an apologetic Claudia Stilinski had dropped Stiles off at their house because he was absolutely devastated. Not to mention he’d been constantly trying to sabotage the move by taking things back out of suitcases after they’d been packed in them and standing in the way of doors to make it difficult for people to get in and out of rooms.

Scott wasn’t sure what else he could do other than just stand there and let Stiles do his thing. His father was out at work, and his mother gave up after a while, going back downstairs to do the laundry. She had ruffled Scott’s hair on the way out and told him to leave Stiles be, that he’d calm down eventually.

So that’s what he was doing. Leaving Stiles be. Scott trusted his mom’s words. Eventually, Stiles’ cries did subside a little, but soon he was blubbering out words. Even though he wasn’t sure whether or not he was supposed to respond, Scott did anyway. It seemed to be the right thing to do.

“I just...I don’t know why they want to _leave me_ …!” Stiles wailed, hiccuping between words and a fist still curled over his eyes.

“Um...I don’t think they want to leave you, Stiles,” Scott tried.

“T-then w-why are they g-going…?” Stiles asked.

Scott shifted the weight on his feet uneasily. “Um...maybe because their daddy’s got a new job? That’s why my mommy said we had to move here from our old house.”

Surprisingly, Stiles seemed to think this over for a minute. He’d calmed down enough to where he was now just pink in the face and sniffling. He brought his hand down and looked at Scott, still hyperventilating a little.

“Y-you think he got...he got a new job?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah! That’s probably it. His...his boss probably made him do it,” Scott said, scrunching his features as he tried to remember what his parents had told him about their move. “When that happened to Dad, I was sad too.”

“O-oh...” Stiles said, his breathing still a bit staccato.

Scott smiled a little, mostly relieved that his friend seemed to really be calming down. “Yeah...” he said with a nod. “So I don’t think they’re leaving because they _want_ to...they...they _have_ to.”

Stiles didn’t say anything more after that; he just stared down at the floor. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Scott felt it was safe to suggest they do something.

“Hey, Stiles...” he said slowly as he looked around the room for something they could do. “Do you want to, um...do you want to play with my Legos?”

They were busy building the next “Leaning Tower of Pizza,” which for some reason both boys had found to be incredibly funny after “learning” about it in school, and when Melissa McCall found the pair laughing in her sons room, she almost regretted having to inform Stiles that his mother was back to take him home. The Winchesters were packed. It was time to say goodbye.

Stiles looked as if he were ready to cry again, but he held it together, and his mother scooped her son up into her arms and whispered how proud she was that he was acting like such a big boy as she carried him down the stairs and outside to her car. Scott practically tumbled down the stairs and out the front door behind them, waving at Stiles as his mother started up the car and shouting at him that everything was going to be okay.

When his mother let him out of the car later, Stiles jumped out of the backseat and rushed into the arms of Dean and Sam, who simultaneously lifted him and gave him a group bear hug. Stiles closed his eyes and squeezed his arms against the back of his cousin’s necks, making their cheeks squish against his.

“I know you’re not leaving because you want to...” Stiles whispered to them, trying not to let his voice quiver too much. “I know you have to go. Scott said. He said your daddy’s got a new job so you have to go.”

Ironically, he had no idea how close to the truth that statement actually was, only thing being John’s demon hunting wasn’t exactly what one would consider a traditional job. When his cousins pulled back from the embrace, Stiles ended up getting cradled in Dean’s arms. Sam ruffled the little boy’s hair affectionately.

“Well, that's one smart kid,” said Sam. “Don’t be too sad though, okay? We’re not saying goodbye forever.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and he tutted at Sam in disapproval in the same instant Stiles’ eyes rounded with hope. “Really?!”

“ _Jeezus_ , Sammy...! Really?! Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Dean scolded, sighing when Stiles’ turned his head to look at him, eyes round as saucers.

“He’s lying?” Stiles asked.

“No, he— _ugh_...” Dean grumbled, shaking his head and giving his brother a look—like _see what you started?_ —before focusing on Stiles again. “Look, kid, I, uh...I don’t want to promise anything we aren’t sure about...”

Stiles’ brows furrowed together in a frown. He tilted his head slightly to one side.

“So what _can_ you promise…?” he asked.

“Um...” Dean blinked as he fished his thoughts for an answer. He hadn’t necessarily been expecting that question. “I, uh...I can’t promise one-hundred percent that we’ll be able to come back here for sure, kid, but I can promise that we’ll uh...we’ll try our best to make that happen.”

The words rang hollow to his own ears, but apparently it was enough to placate the young one. Stiles nodded agreeably.

“Okay,” he said, patting Dean on the chest. “Sounds good.”

Dean stood there awkwardly for a moment, still holding Stiles in his arms, when John finally snapped him out of his trance by clearing his throat. Dean looked over at his father, who tilted his head towards the Impala.

“All right, boys,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

Dean nodded, and Sam followed their father to the car after giving Stiles one last pat on the head and murmuring his farewells to their aunt and uncle. Just before Dean set Stiles down, the little boy hugged his arms tightly around the older man’s neck once more and he pressed his cheek against Dean’s, whispering something in his ear before finally getting set down on his feet. Dean’s movements after that was as if he were on autopilot; he said goodbye to his relatives, and then walked over to the car in a bit of a daze.

Stiles took hold of his mother’s hand, watching sadly as Dean slipped into the passenger’s seat of his father’s car. While he was not yet fully aware of his abilities as an empath, the needs were still there. Touch was a big source of contact for empaths, and after having been exposed to both Dean and Sam for a while, there was going to be a bit of an adjustment period for him where he would feel a small pang of loss. The degree of emptiness felt was dependent on how long an empath was exposed to someone and how deep the level of emotional connection was. Though the Winchesters were only with the Stilinskis a short while, John’s boys, at least, had a lasting impact on Stiles.

Even if their memory slowly faded away into something of a fleeting, golden shimmer, as Stiles grew older. Tucked away, quietly, but never truly forgotten. He waved when his uncle started to pull the Impala out of the driveway. He smiled when both Sam poked his head out the window and he could see Dean nod through the windshield as he held his own arm out to wave back.

It would be a while down the road before Sam finally dared to ask. He waited until their father pulled into a gas station and was busy inside the convenience store, making a few purchases.

“What did the kid say to you just before we left?”

Dean paused for a moment, and then tilted his head back against the headrest, eyes shutting partway as he responded to his brother. “Don’t worry about it, Sammy…it was nothing important.”

Sam nodded, deciding it was probably better not to press. “...all right, Dean.”

He then slouched in his seat and took a look outside, eventually spacing out while observing the scenery. Meanwhile, Dean replayed the memory from just moments ago in his mind, his lips twitching upward at the corners just as his father popped back into the Impala and started the car up again.

“What are you thinking about?” his father asked, casting him a brief curious glance as they started on their trip again.

“Nothing,” Dean said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head before turning to look out the window, lips still curled in a small smile. “Nothing at all, really...just something funny.”

_“You know, I used to not like you because I thought you were mean. I don’t think that anymore though. Sam was right, I guess. You’re really not so bad after all.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there was so much going back-and-forth of times here! I promise there won’t be a lot of this in future chapters. This chapter just contains a lot of setup for later chapters, and I wasn't sure how else to really go about presenting everything. 
> 
> Trying to bang this story out as fast as I can, and I’m definitely excited to be doing this. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Second Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Stiles meet Derek Hale for the first time on National Reading Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Scott and Stiles are 7 and are in the latter half of the second grade (they are in the 2001-2002 school year, with the school year starting in September 2001 and ending in June 2002). Derek is still 12 (since December hasn't happened yet), and in the seventh grade. The original posting of this chapter had Derek 8 years apart from Stiles instead of the canonical 6, but thanks to a very helpful reader who helped me figure out the mess that is the canonical timeline, I brought it back to a 6 year age gap. This means certain things in this chapter don't work as well as it did when I had Derek in high school as opposed to middle school...but rather than rewrite the thing, I am just asking my readers to please be willing to suspend their belief because I'm partial to the moments I set in this chapter. 
> 
> Some of the dialogue has changed from the original posting to reflect Derek and Hayden's change in age. I figured there might be some differences in their speech patterns. I know mine certainly changed from middle school to high school.
> 
> Also, apparently Laura Hale was born in 1982, thanks to a resource a reader was able to find me. This makes her six years older than Derek (which, to my surprise, is only a year older than I initially guestimated for her age). I think Cora is six years younger than Derek, so that makes her about the same age as Scott and Stiles.
> 
> Majority vote came through asking for no Wincest, and therefore, there shall be no Wincest. (So sorry for anyone who was hoping otherwise, but the people who decided to give their input have spoken.) Voting on this matter is now closed. Thanks to everyone who provided input, and I may call on you all again if I need help deciding something else I’m toying with that I need a muse tie-breaker on. 
> 
> For the purposes of this story, I’ve decided to do the following about the A/B/O dynamics. There’s the biological ranking of traditional of most A/B/O universes, and then there’s the pack ranking which is as defined in Teen Wolf by eye color. Therefore, Derek will always be an Alpha, but not always a Pack Alpha. Having control over a pack affords an Alpha additional powers, more strength, and protection, but losing that status in no way affects their physiological ability to sire an Omega mate and care for them. Hopefully that makes sense. 
> 
> I’m also going to be throwing a lot of my own made-up elements this and other plot points I’m developing, so hang tight and please bear with me. The actual Teen Wolf canon elements and timeline is already wonky in a ton of places anyway, so I figure one more person completely deviating from it all and making their own thing completely isn’t really going to hurt anybody. Not to mention this is fanfiction, so...yeah. New tag, by the way—I’m going to start throwing some original characters into this storyline every now and again. Some will be recurring, others will bow out after they’ve served their purpose.
> 
> The next few chapters might be a bit shorter than the first two. I’m trying to set things up for certain elements I’m going to draw from Teen Wolf’s Season One, and as much as I am sure you all would like lots of long chapters, I also don’t want to write anything that’s super unnecessary. 
> 
> Someone asked when “present day” will be. I guess once we hit some of the events I’m going to be borrowing from Season One, we can consider that the present, but other than that I guess it’s sort of hard to say. We’ll see how it goes!
> 
> (Unrelated: there’s just so much I want to write for this ship, it’s _insane_.  Literally not enough hours in the day!)

_March, 2002_

Stiles’ first crush happened when he was in the second grade, on National Reading Day. That day, a bunch of students from a local middle school trying to complete their community service requirement were tasked with going to various classrooms ranging from kindergarten through the third grade, to read to the kids there. Among the middle school students assigned to his class, one boy in particular caused Stiles’ movements to miraculously halt and he found himself frozen in place, stunned like a deer in headlights. Noticing this, Scott pat his friend on the back curiously.

“Hey, Stiles...” he said, tilting his head in concern. “You okay?”

His friend’s eyes seemed to get bigger as the object of his fascination took notice of his staring and slowly began to approach, ignoring the flock of little girls trying to clamor for his attention with their books.

“Buh...buh...buh...” Stiles gurgled unintelligibly.

Scott frowned slightly. “What?”

“Hey there, little guy,” the middle school student said, smiling easily as he bent forward slightly to meet Stiles’ level, hands clasped over his knees. “What’s your name?”

“Uh...”

Scott shook his head, his frown deepening for an instant before he flashed the older boy an apologetic look. “His name is Stiles,” Scott said. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with him though. He usually talks a lot.”

“Oh, yeah?” the boy said, clearly amused. “And what’s your name?”

Scott apparently wasn’t entirely immune to whoever this dark-haired boy in basketball shorts was either, because now he was blushing too. “Um...uh...it’s Scott.”

“Scott, huh? Okay,” the boy said with a bit of a lazy grin. “I’m Derek. Nice to meetcha.”

“Uh...y-yeah…!” Scott said, unsure why he was suddenly getting so flustered himself. “Nice.”

The boy who called himself Derek chuckled. His attention was soon drawn to the owner of the hand that was tugging at his sleeve. Look still filled with wonder, Stiles slowly held up the book he’d chosen; their teacher had made the class pick out what they wanted read to them before the middle school students had come in. Derek was still smiling, but there was something softer about it this time.

“You want me to read that one to you?” he asked.

“Uh...uh-huh,” Stiles said, nodding, completely unable to say anything else.

Scott might have found the whole thing funny if he didn’t think it was all a little bit strange. It was like the pair of them were living in their own bubble.

“Um...I think I’m going to...go _that way_ ,” Scott said as he began to shuffle his feet. “You’ll be all right...right, Stiles?”

“...uh-huh.”

“Okaaay...” Scott said, eying Derek with a hint of suspicion. “You’ll make sure nothing happens to him, right?”

“Of course,” Derek said with a nod.

“Good,” Scott said, seemingly satisfied before he started walking towards a beautiful middle school girl with flowing black hair.

Derek looked back down at Stiles and chuckled; the boy was still staring at him with goo-goo eyes. He reached for the book being held up for him.

“ _Child of the Wolves_ , huh?” Derek said, whistling lightly as he skimmed through the pages. “This is a pretty thick book for a boy your age. We might not be able to finish it, but is that okay?”

Stiles nodded vigorously. Derek laughed softly.

“All right, well...how about we sit down?” Derek asked as he scanned the room for an open spot. He pointed to a space by a wall. “Is over there okay?”

Stiles nodded furiously again. Derek smiled.

“Okay. Follow me then.”

Once they reached the wall, Derek turned around, letting his back connect with a light smack as he slid down to a sitting position. After a second he looked up, curious as to why Stiles had not yet moved. He stifled another laugh when he noticed the kid’s big eyes flit between the space beside Derek and his lap.

Derek had spread his legs out at first, but now he folded them into a pretzel. He tilted his head slightly downward while keeping his eyes on the boy.

“Want to sit here?” he asked.

He still managed to hold back his laughter, but he was unable to keep the twinkling mirth out of his green eyes when Stiles suddenly turned a rather adorable shade of red. He tapped Stiles on the arm before the boy could settle for just sitting beside him out of sheer embarrassment.

“It’s fine,” said Derek. “It’ll make it easier for you to see the words anyway.”

Stiles apparently didn’t need much more convincing. He quickly scrambled on top of Derek’s lap and settled himself there. Derek let a soft snort slip through his nose. He could tell Stiles was still embarrassed because he could see the boy’s ears were tipped pink. Once Derek opened the book and started reading though, the kid began to relax.

Derek reading to him was a dream. Actually, correction— _Derek_ was a dream, to Stiles. Just as with Scott, though Stiles couldn’t explain it, there was something about the older boy that he had liked instantly. One day he would be able to make the connection between these instances and his empathic abilities.

Derek’s good looks helped too, of course, in addition to the comforting feeling that seemed to emit from his person. So comfortable, in fact, that Stiles’ posture slowly sagged against Derek’s chest, and at some point he eventually drifted off to sleep. Derek half-smiled when he noticed. He kept reading for a few more minutes anyway, just in case. He’d been accused of ruining a potentially perfectly good nap before by his younger sister Cora, whom he often read bedtime stories to. According to her, he wasn’t supposed to stop reading, even if he thought Cora was asleep, because she might still be listening.

Once he was absolutely certain Stiles wasn’t going to wake up, however, Derek quieted and leafed through the rest of the book the boy had chosen while sparing an occasional discreet glance down at the sleeping child using him as a makeshift sofa. The story was about a Siberian Husky who ran away from home because he didn’t want to be separated from his mother after he and his sister were sold to a new owner. Which made absolutely no sense, Derek thought to himself as he continued reading along, because in the end, he didn’t even succeed in staying with his mother. Instead, he ended up trying to join a pack of wolves, whose reception of him was mixed, and it was only after he’d proven himself a thousand times over that the pack he was trying to get integrated with finally accepted him as one of their own. When he’d finished skimming through the book, Derek found himself closing it and looking down at the boy contemplatively for a while.

He did remember Stiles. He didn’t think he could ever forget the little boy who saved him in the forest, refreshing morning dewdrop scent and all. Derek hadn’t expected the boy to remember him; after all, he’d been found as a wolf. A phenomenon which even _he_ was still trying to understand. Since hitting puberty, his shifting abilities were rather unstable. Not only was he unable to take that form at will, at the time of the steel trap incident, he also hadn’t been able to revert back to human until he’d managed to limp a considerable distance away and his adrenaline began to subside. This had led him to theorize that it might have had something to do with having some sort of trigger, though he wasn’t sure if it was related to pain or panic, and it wasn’t something he was necessarily eager to test.

The voice of one of his classmates shook him out of his thoughts. “ _Derek_.”

Derek looked around until he found the source of the voice. It belonged to one of his good friends, Hayden Becker. Tall, blonde, and pretty much the fantasy of every girl at their middle school. Derek gave a little smirk and tilted his chin upward in response, acknowledging that he’d heard.

“We've been released!” Hayden said, grinning as he nodded at Stiles. “You bore him to tears?”

Derek gave his signature leer in response, though there was no real bite in the expression. “Ha- _ha_. Very funny, Hayden.”

“I know I am,” Hayden replied with a wink. “Wake the kid up; it's time to go.”

Derek let out a soft sigh and nodded. “Yeah, you go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“If you say so. Just don’t miss the bus.”

“Got it,” Derek said somewhat absently as he looked back down at Stiles.

He couldn’t figure out why, but the kid seemed to bring his wolf so much inner peace. It was the same as when he first met Stiles several months ago in the forest. Derek didn’t consider himself particularly angry, but his current struggles with shifting occasionally made it difficult to keep all his emotions in check. It made him that much more reluctant to do what he had to. He nudged at Stiles’ shoulder in a gentle attempt to rouse him.

“Hey, buddy...” Derek said softly. “Time to get up now. Story time’s over.”

Stiles didn’t move much at first, but when Derek prodded at him again, he let out a soft sigh and began to stir. Derek half-smiled as Stiles slowly righted himself and brought a hand to his eyes, rubbing at them. He chuckled when Stiles blinked several times and looked about, as if trying to remember where he was.

“Um...did I fall asleep?” Stiles mumbled.

Derek chuckled. “You sure did.”

“Mm...sorry...” Stiles said, tilting his head upward and squinting his eyes as he tried to adjust them to the light.

When he was finally able to focus on Derek’s face, his eyes grew a bit wide and his lips rounded into the shape of an ‘o.’ Pink dusted his cheeks again, and Derek laughed softly as Stiles’ teacher reached down and lifted the boy up, providing Derek an apologetic glance in the process.

“My apologies for this little one.  He can be a bit of a handful,” she said. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No, not at all,” Derek said with a smile as he rose from his position, swatting at the back of his shorts to get rid of any dirt that might have accumulated from his having sat on the floor. “I had fun reading to him. Stiles is a good kid.”

“When he wants to be,” came the neutral reply. “I have to say, I haven’t seen him this calm since he started here. He and his friend Scott are always getting into some kind of mischief.”

"Really?” asked Derek. “He didn’t give me any trouble.”

“That’s because you’re a miracle worker, son,” the teacher said, shaking her head. “Believe me, I’m pretty sure this is a once in a lifetime occurrence.”

Derek laughed. “I’ll take your word for it, ma’am.”

“Well, aren’t you just the perfect little gentleman?” the teacher sighed happily. “What was your name again?”

“Derek,” Derek replied. “Derek Hale.”

“It was very good to meet you, Derek,” the teacher said. “Now go on, don’t miss your bus.”

“I won’t. Thank you,” Derek said to the teacher before leaning forward a bit, bringing his eyes level with the boy in her arms. He flashed a small smile and held one hand up in farewell. “It was nice meeting you too, Stiles. See you later.”

He was a bit surprised when a little hand caught hold of one of his fingers before he could drop his hand. Derek couldn’t help it when he arched an eyebrow.

“Promise…?” the little boy asked.

He’d said it so softly, that it took Derek a minute to realize that he’d been asked a question. The little boy’s teacher frowned at him slightly.

“Let him go now, Stiles. He has to go back to his own school.”

Derek didn’t know what compelled him to say it. Maybe it was the teacher’s reprimand, or perhaps something bothered him about the emotions that flickered in Stiles’ light brown orbs; they seemed to be a bit too complicated for a seven-year-old.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding once. “Of course. I promise.”

“...okay.”

And Derek had to admit that something felt a little odd about the whole thing, when the two finally broke contact and Derek began to make his way out of the classroom. It felt almost like he’d made some sort of contract; one that he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to keep. After all, it wasn’t like he had a lot of reasons to interact with someone going to elementary school, especially if they weren’t at all related.

Still, he remembered the way his wolf had reacted almost instantly, the minute he'd caught a whiff of Stiles' familiar scent upon entering that classroom, and how he'd moved towards the kid without having given it much thought. As natural as it felt, Derek also realized it was weird to feel such a familiar and friendly connection with someone he'd only met one other time before. He would have to ask his mother about that later, he decided. Or Laura, if it turned out that their mother was too busy. There was something else bugging him too, and it was recalling the expression Stiles had worn on his face when Derek had to leave. He could have sworn it looked like the kid was experiencing some sort of pain. Which didn't make sense to him, only because as far as Derek could tell, the kid wasn't a werewolf. Therefore, brief physical interactions or lack thereof shouldn't have affected him as much as it seemed to have done. In werewolves, touch was essential, particularly for close-knit family, pack members, and mates. Especially for the last subset—it helped to stabilize partnerships and keep them relatively in sync. Derek was pretty sure there wasn't an actual physiological equivalent for bonding like that among humans. At least, not to that degree. All those thoughts and more quickly went forgotten, however, as soon as he'd made it back to his assigned bus and settled into a seat beside his best friend.

“Geez, Derek!” Hayden said, laughing as he gave Derek a friendly punch to the chest. “What took you so long! We’ve all been waiting for you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek said, laughing right along with his friend. “I already got the full lecture from Mrs. Crosby.”

“Well! Can’t be too mad about it though, yeah?” Hayden said with a grin. “Thanks to you, we might all get to miss seventh period!”

“What, no History?” Derek said, smiling back. “Yeah, I guess I can live with that.”

“No kidding! My head always ends up spinning after that class.”

"Come on, Hayden. You say your head always spins after _every_ class," said Derek.  "Except for gym, which— _hey!_ "

He rubbed at where he'd just been elbowed in the ribs.  Hayden was shaking his head.

"Shut it, Derek."

Derek just laughed in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original version of this chapter was supposed to be a tad longer than what I have here, with Stiles in a car ride back home from school with Dean and a little conversation with his mother, but I decided to nix the car scene mostly because I like how I wrapped things up (for now) with Sam, Dean, and Stiles last chapter. Not to mention the Winchester boys won't be making a reappearance for a while. Without that scene though, I thought the transition into Stiles' conversation with his mother would end up making the story's flow a bit awkward, so I've decided I'm going to work that same conversation I had in mind in a little bit later. 
> 
> I think about one or two more chapters, and we'll at least be at the start of Teen Wolf's Season One. That is, unless my muse suddenly throws me a random curve ball. (Truth be told, I'm having that weird, nagging feeling like I'm forgetting something huge again, but it might also just be that my brain is feeling kind of frazzled right now. I've been writing this story practically nonstop, and honestly it's difficult to find a good place to break because I keep getting invigorated by all the wonderful comments and part of me just doesn't want to lose all this great momentum.) Only time will tell, I suppose, hahaha. Stay tuned!


	4. False Pretenses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudia gets in over her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. SO. Regarding the timeline. This fic always intended to be an alternate timeline fic, BUT I hadn’t initially intended the Teen Wolf canonical timeline to veer a hard left until about Season Four or so. Unfortunately, I got Derek’s birth year wrong, which I discovered a tad too late. Originally I wasn't going to fix anything, but then a reader spent so much time breaking things down for me that I felt they (along with other readers) deserved at least _some_ adjustments. I'll try my best to make it work without asking readers to suspend their belief more than they have to.
> 
> There will still be a lot of changes to the canonical timeline. What this really means is that I’m just going to forgo waiting to diverge later and just diverge now. What you expect to happen (like certain canonical events) might not end up happening, and in other cases, (like Claudia's death) will happen as expected.
> 
> From this point forward, I will be sure to let readers know where we are in the timeline in the authors notes before each chapter, if I feel like readers will need it for context and clarification, as well as any warnings about changes to the canonical storyline.
> 
> All in all, I really hope that this doesn’t ruin things too much for everyone. However, if it does, I sincerely apologize. I promise I will throw everything into this story to make up for it.

_April, 2002_

Almost eight months had passed since John Winchester and his boys had come through the Stilinskis. Claudia knew she should have forgotten them by now, but her brother-in-law’s words had remained with her.

_“Are you absolutely certain that no one suspicious came into contact with your son between the minute he was born and his first year of life?”_

She had told him no, because that had been the truth. Still, she could never shake the feeling that she’d forgotten something important.

Her son’s birthday came and went without incident, and the very next day her husband went to work the night shift, leaving her and her son at home alone. Claudia had tucked her son in bed before going to her own and falling asleep.

Then, somehow, she suddenly remembered it all. Perhaps because her mind just never stopped searching. It woke her up screaming.

»»-------------¤-------------««

She’d had a nightmare once, one that she had swept under the rug because it had been so terrible. It had occurred about a year after her sister’s death. The worst part was, at the time she hadn’t realized it was a dream, because it had felt so _real_.

Everything had begun with John.

»»-------------¤-------------««

The smell of blood was thick in the air. They were in some house. Claudia looked around, bewildered. Eventually, her eyes focused on a figure in the center of the living room she was in; a man who was down on his knees and with his shoulders hunched forward. One whom she’d recognized easily.

 _“John…?”_ she gasped.

Her brother-in-law lifted his head in response. _“Please…!”_ he begged. _“Please save my sons…!”_

A million thoughts surged through her mind. Claudia shook her head.

“I don’t...I don’t understand what you're saying,” she said. “What’s happened to your boys? Where are we? What is this pla— _AHHH!_ ”

A blade ran through her brother-in-law’s ribcage, from the back. Claudia watched in horror as John’s eyes widened in shock before they lost their shine and rolled back, a gurgling noise emitting from his throat as his body crumpled to the floor.

Behind him was a five-year-old Dean, holding a short sword that should have been too heavy for a boy his age to wield and covered in blood. Though it was her nephew, he was clearly possessed by something, and his posture was way too mature for his age or his stature. His white teeth glinted through the thickness of red in a Cheshire-like grin, and the mere sight of it terrified her enough to start stumbling back.

“Dean…?” Claudia said, voice quivering.

“Oh please, Claudia,” the demon possessing her nephew said in the kid’s voice. The whole thing was eerie and sent chills down her spine. “Clearly I’m not.”

Claudia swallowed the lump in her throat. “Then who...who are you…?” she asked in a hushed tone.

The demon replied, but he didn’t answer her question. “Do you want to save them?”

“I... _why are you doing this?_ ” Claudia asked, the panic rising in her voice. “Why did you kill them?”

The demon grinned. “Oh, I could bring them all back for you, _sweetheart_ ,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “So long as you cooperate with me.”

“What...what is it that you want…?” Claudia said, voice quavering.

“Nothing at all really,” the demon replied. “Just a simple request. Or would you like their deaths to be your fault?”

“...what are your terms?” Claudia asked.

“An invitation,” the demon said. “Let me swing by for a visit to your home. Ten years from now.”

Claudia tensed. “For what?”

Her blood ran cold when the demon threw her nephew’s head back and howled out a laugh. She, of course, didn’t see the irony. She hadn’t been there when her sister said those exact same words to the very same malicious spirit.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” the demon said. “So long as I don’t get interrupted, nobody dies. I _promise_.”

Instinct screamed at her not to agree. However, she knew from her past experiences with the supernatural, that demons often offered deals to humans not because they were showing mercy, but because they had already won. The deals were usually proffered just for their own sick, twisted amusement.

“...John and the boys,” she said finally.

The demon lifted her nephew’s hands. “Left alone, without a scratch.”

“And all I have to do...”

“Is let me into your residence,” the demon confirmed with a nod. “And stay out of my way.”

“And you promise no one will get hurt,” she asked.

“So long as there is no interference,” said the demon. “It’s a good deal, Claudia.”

Provided she kept up her end of the bargain, that was. Claudia recognized that much. Her mind raced, searching for some loophole. Demons, oddly enough, tended to keep their word with these things, though somewhat loosely. If she wasn’t careful; if there was something she was missing here, well, she knew there would be consequences.

“Tick-tock…!” the demon said, using Dean’s prepubescent voice to sneer. “Little Sammy dies next.”

“ _OKAY!_ ” Claudia blurted out before she could stop herself. “Okay...you...you have a deal.”

The demon grinned and gave her a flash of something before he exited Dean’s little body in what looked like a whirlwind of thick, black smoke. Claudia could feel that whatever the evil presence was, it had completely gone. She threw herself forward and rushed over to cradle her nephew in her arms. After a moment, the little boy began to stir.

“Nn...mom…?”

“No...no honey,” Claudia said, tears filling her eyes and shaking her head. “It’s your Aunt Claudia.”

“Auntie Claudia…?”

“Yes, honey, that’s right,” Claudia said softly, brushing away strands of her nephew’s sweaty, matted hair. “Are you all right…?”

“Mm...I think so...”

“Where’s Sam?” she asked her nephew.

Dean lifted one of his small hands and rubbed at his eyes. “Crib still, I think...”

“That’s good. Okay,” Claudia said, breathing out a small sigh of relief. “I’m going to go check on him in a minute. Okay...”

She heard a groan to her left, and when she looked to the side she saw John starting to move. There was still a lot of blood on his shirt, but somehow she could sense that he too was going to be all right. Her breathing was still unsteady as she waited in anticipation for her brother-in-law to prop himself up with one of his hands and rise. When their eyes made eventual contact, Claudia suddenly felt as if something slammed her at full force from behind, knocking the wind right out of her lungs.

_“Are you absolutely certain that no one suspicious came into contact with your son between the minute he was born and his first year of life?”_

She remembered now, the color of Dean’s eyes, how they had changed in the dream, just before the demon had exited her nephew’s body. She remembered John’s voice, the way it sounded when he described the malevolent being that had taken the life of her sister, Mary.

_“The Yellow-Eyed Man.”_

»»-------------¤-------------««

She came back to grips with reality when she felt her son shaking her with as much force as his small frame was able to muster. Worried eyes were wide with panic.

“What is it?! What is it, Mommy?” he cried. “What’s wrong?!”

“My _baby…_!” Claudia gasped as she wrapped her arms around her son.

Stiles’ voice was somewhat muffled when he spoke into her chest. “Mommy…?”

Claudia closed her eyes instead of responding. She tried soothing her son by running her hands against her son’s back and through his hair. She spoke words meant to calm him and kept her eyes closed, trying to focus; trying to _concentrate_.

Almost instantly, she was transported approximately years back into the past. Ten years after her conversation with the Yellow-Eyed Demon. 1994. The year her son was born. As an empath, she could see things that her son would not necessarily remember; would not necessarily know what they were.

Claudia stopped when she found what she was looking for. There was no mistaking the cold atmosphere she felt from the memory, although she couldn’t tell what day it was she was looking at. She didn’t even know where it was she and her husband could have been when this had happened, and the thought terrified her. All she could see was a man, hovering over her son. She knew, without a doubt, even before confirming the color of the eyes, who it was.

It took her a moment to realize what the wetness was dripping onto her son’s mouth. Just as she registered the coppery taste of blood, the Yellow-Eyed Demon spoke in an excited hushed whisper.

_“One day you will be called upon to serve our master for a greater purpose…!”_

The revelation thrust her out of the vision with a gasp. For one moment, Claudia found herself to be disoriented, and then in the next, she felt panic. Stiles was no longer in her arms, and she couldn’t remember having ever let him go.

“Mitchi…?!” she cried, voice unexpectedly hoarse as she got out of her bed. “Where are you, honey?”

Anxiety was replaced with relief when she went out into the hall and heard her son’s voice coming from somewhere in the house. Making her way down the hall, her son’s voice gradually became more audible, and Claudia eventually realized that her son had, at some point, gone down the stairs. She went down the steps swiftly, and eventually found her son in the kitchen on the telephone. Though his back was turned to her, she didn’t need to look at his face to know that it was tear-streaked from crying.

“I-I don’t know what’s w-wrong with her, Daddy...” Stiles hiccuped into the phone. “Mommy’s h-hurt I think…p-p-please come home…?”

Claudia sucked in a short breath in an attempt to steady herself before speaking. “There you are, baby...”

Her son jumped a bit in surprise and he whirled around to look at her with glassy eyes. “M-mommy…!”

Claudia gave her son a small smile, hoping it didn’t look as tired as she felt. “Is that Daddy on the phone, sweetie…?”

Stiles nodded vigorously. “Uh...uh-huh,” he said, eyes growing a bit round. “I...are you mad at me, Mommy…?”

Claudia smiled and shook her head. “No, darling...no, not at all. I know, Mommy scared you, and I’m sorry...could you bring the phone to me please?”

Her son nodded and ran to her with the phone. She bent forward to envelop her son in a warm hug with one arm, and took the phone from him with her free hand, placing it against her ear.

“Shane…? Hello?”

 _“Oh my god, Claudia!”_ Sheriff Stilinski’s panicked voice came through from the other side. _“What’s going on, honey?! Is everything all right? Stiles was—”_

“I...everything’s fine, darling...” Claudia said softly while caressing her son’s head in an attempt to soothe him. “Nothing’s happened...we’re all fine.”

 _“Damn it, Claudia…! Are you sure everything’s all right?”_ said Sheriff Stilinski. _“You know what? Never mind. I’m going to ask someone else to take over the rest of my shift for me. I’ll be home soon.”_

“ _Jutrzejszy_ ,” Claudia said, saying her husband’s full name with a bit of force. “It really is nothing serious, my love. Finish your work and then come home.”

Normally her tone would have given her husband pause, but she knew when he responded, that this time he was not going to back down as easily as the others.

 _“This isn’t a discussion, Claudia,”_ the sheriff said in a rare form of firmness towards his wife. _“You and I both know our son wouldn’t have called me over some nonsense.”_

“Oh, I seem to recall a certain April Fool’s joke from earlier this month...” Claudia said lightly, her lips quirking slightly at the corners.

_“...sweetheart.”_

Claudia closed her eyes and involuntarily shuddered. The affectionate name had never bothered her before, but the memory of the Yellow-Eyed Demon’s sarcastic utterance of it was still too fresh in her mind, and it caused a twisted feeling in her gut. She breathed deeply through her nose.

“Okay...” she said, finally giving in, knowing that this time the battle was lost. “Come home, then. I’m going to try putting our little Mitchi back to bed.”

 _“I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise,”_ Sheriff Stilinski said, sounding incredibly relieve d to hear he wouldn’t be going too far against his wife’s wishes. _“I love you.”_

“Love you too,” Claudia said before hanging up the phone and then bending forward to lift up Stiles, who immediately wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face there.

She rubbed her hand against her son’s back in soothing motions as she made her way back towards the stairs. As she started to take them both up, she pat her son’s head and glanced down at him when he spoke.

“It really hurt, Mommy...”

Claudia’s brows furrowed together into a slight frown. “What hurt, honey?”

“When I touched you, it hurt,” Stiles said, and Claudia could feel him shaking his head against her neck. “But you didn’t hit me!”

Claudia stopped just before entering her son’s room, eyes widening as it dawned on her what exactly her son was telling him. Stiles’ empathic abilities were awakening, she realized. He had felt her pain and anguish.

“Did you...did you see anything too?” she asked.

She let out a small sigh of relief when she felt her son shake his head again. Claudia stepped into her son’s room. _Good_ , she thought to herself as she walked over to her son’s bed. His powers hadn’t accelerated that far. She was glad he was spared from seeing the same things she had.

It took about a half hour, but she managed to get Stiles to sleep, and a few minutes later, her husband arrived when she’d tucked herself back into their shared bed. Part of her wanted to feign sleep, but she decided against it and sat up waiting for her husband—she knew that the sheriff would make them talk about it later if not now, and she rather preferred to discuss it right then, if she was forced to pick between the two.

When he entered the room, she got up to kiss him. The exchange was chaste and sweet; her husband’s thumb traced against her cheek gently, and she could see reflected in his eyes how tired he was and how worried. She sighed and leaned into his touch, cupping around his hand with one of her own.

“...you going to tell me what happened tonight?” her husband asked softly.

“I had a nightmare,” Claudia said, altogether honest and yet also dancing around the truth. “It wasn’t real. I knew it wasn’t real...but it took me a moment to convince myself otherwise.”

She opened her eyes and stared right into her husband’s. Projecting one’s feelings to one who didn’t share her abilities wasn’t really possible, but even if she could, she was already too drained from the day’s events to really put forth the effort. They stood there for what seemed like a while, eyes locked, exchanging unspoken words.

Eventually, the sheriff’s shoulders slumped forward, relenting. “All right,” her husband said finally, even if he didn’t sound completely sure what it was he was agreeing to. “...to bed, then.”

He relaxed when Claudia gave him a warm smile. “That would be perfect,” she said.

Though they never spoke of it again, the night’s incident undoubtedly remained with her in the days that followed. Instinct told her to stop; to not dig any further, lest she find something she wished she hadn’t stumbled across. Against her better judgment, however, she started meditating, whenever her son was at school and her husband was out at work. There had been something familiar about the room where she’d had the nightmare, and she felt compelled to figure out why.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Everything about the room had been dark. Drab, greyish-green walls and a floor that was just as muted in color. _Not Mary’s_ , Claudia had mused during one session of visualization, searching for clues.

 _Mary._ The minute she thought of her sister’s name, it was like she heard the click of a key turning.

Claudia opened her eyes. She remembered now, _how could she have forgotten?_ She knew the room—knew the house that it belonged to.

She should have left everything well and alone. Not that it would have prevented the events that had already long ago been set in motion, but because it might have been better to live in ignorance until the end. To spend more time with her precious son.  Instead of looking back on this moment, years later and with life failing her, filled with regret and sorrow.

It was a Monday when she left a note for her husband that she was going to be away for a while, in Kansas. Despite her promise that she would return, that she wasn’t leaving him, and that everything would be okay, it did nothing to allay the chaos that ensued, or the panic. Sheriff Stilinski wasted no time in putting out an APB for his wife. Claudia having been pretty tight-lipped about her past, the sheriff didn’t necessarily know where to ask people look first.

True to her word, however, she returned later that week, on a Thursday. Without explanation, and yet something had clearly changed. For all his relief, Sheriff Stilinski was still angry, and understandably so. They fought that night, and Stiles stayed up in his room the entire time, pillow over his head and eyes squeezed shut while he counted as high as he knew how to go.

After a couple weeks of his parents giving each other the mutual silent treatment, things seemed to settle as they’d done before. It wasn’t until Claudia began to experience drastic mood swings and couldn’t remember simple things like how she had gotten somewhere and why she was there in the first place, did any of them start to realize that something was terribly wrong.

When they took Claudia to the hospital, she went home diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia. The doctors couldn’t explain why it was progressing at such rapid pace. Her husband was distraught, and her son was still a bit too young to fully grasp the severity of the situation. Eventually, at her insistence, her husband went back to work and the both of them tried their best to proceed in a business as usual-type fashion.

“Beacon Hills still needs its sheriff,” she had said to her husband. “Time doesn’t stop, just because we want it to.”

He’d been reluctant, but he nevertheless complied. They both did the best with the situation as they could.

In the afternoons, Claudia often watched her son sleep, as he often liked to do just a few hours before dinner. His mother would brush away strands of hair lovingly, usually with quiet tears spilling from her eyes and streaking down her face. She didn’t want to forget her baby, but knew that one day, it would only be a matter of time.

At some point, she began to keep a journal and kept very focused on it. She always wrote in it when her husband wasn’t around. If her son noticed she was writing when he came home from school, he didn’t really seem to feel that anything was unusual about it, and never made mention of it in conversation, even to his father. She wrote in the leather-bound book almost daily, for as long as she could until she finally had to be admitted into the hospital, and then she placed it among her son’s things, just before she had to go.

It broke her heart to know that she wouldn’t be around to watch her son grow, but she would do her best to teach him. While she still could.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“ _I’ve always wondered if you’d be able to stay away.”_

Claudia whirled around, though she wasn’t as surprised as she probably should have been. No, the real surprise had been the fact that her parents’ former home was still sitting there, in the middle of a forest, abandoned and somewhat deteriorated.

She clenched her hands at her sides as The Man with the Yellow Eyes grinned at her toothily. He cricked his neck, and the movement seemed unnatural.

“What did you do to my son?” Claudia asked through grit teeth.

“Ah...” the demon said, his amusement not wavering. “So you _saw_. How fascinating. You are much, _much_ more interesting than your sister.”

“What. Did you do. To my _son_?” Claudia said, voice rising as she punctuated each word.

“You might recall the deal we made, all those years ago,” the demon said nonchalantly, sounding bored. “The one where you so graciously allowed me into your home in exchange for—”

“That turned out to be a _dream…_!” Claudia said, exasperated. “How were you still able to do it?!”

“Don’t you know?” the demon replied. “I have the ability to permeate dreams. Despite where we made it, the deal was still good. Permission is permission.”

“But if I had said _no_ , then—?”

“ _Ah_...but you knew that you _couldn’t_ , didn’t you?” the demon said with a smile. “Somewhere, deep down, you knew that I had the _power_...”

Claudia took one step back as the demon took one step forward. Yellow eyes seemed to glow, even though it was only late in the afternoon and not yet dark outside.

“...to take their lives,” the demon continued, and Claudia tried not to flinch at his rancid breath. “Your world was _so small_ then, wasn’t it? All you could think about was wanting to protect your late sister’s children, never once imagining that one day, you would have one of your own.”

While the demon’s words were true, that didn’t mean she wanted to hear it from him. He spoke again before she could.

“And to think that I would be so fortunate to meet not just one, but _two_ individuals with powerful abilities such as yours, coursing through your veins,” said the demon. “Yours especially. I suppose that makes you the favorite. As much as I liked Mary. Oh, and let’s not forget about the _children_ …!”

“You leave them alone!” Claudia cried, charging at him with a spirited blade.

It was no use, of course. The demon simply held up a hand and pinned her against the wall, using invisible forces to keep her in place.

“Tsk, tsk...” the demon tutted. “Why _is it_ that all you Campbells fight in the exact same manner?”

“I won’t let you hurt my son!”

“Far too late for that, I’m afraid,” the demon said with glee. “The plan is already well in motion.”

“What if we were to make an exchange?” Claudia ground out.

The demon, in his vessel, raised a brow. “Oh? You would like to make a deal?”

“It’s what I came for,” said Claudia. “I will give you whatever it is that you want. Just undo whatever it is you did to my son.”

“Hmm...” the demon hummed, pretending to contemplate the offer before grinning. “No. Not a chance.”

“Why not!” Claudia shouted as she tried to force herself out of the demon’s hold.

“ _Because_ ,” the demon said as he brought Claudia’s body forward a bit from the wall before slamming her right back against it. “Your son has something Mary’s boys _lack_.”

The demon threw his head back and roared with laughter upon seeing the look of sheer panic reflected in Claudia’s eyes. He snarled.

“Did you honestly believe that no one would take notice?” the demon said. “Oh, Josiah Campbell was good—his name is one whispered quite often in the spirit realm. Such raw power no one has seen before or since. _Until now_. And _this time_ , we have contracted with it!”

“No…” Claudia gasped, voice sounding small. Tears began to flow freely down her face. “No, no, no, no, no...”

“ _Yes_ …!” the demon hissed. “But I’ll tell you what—I’ll give you a _gift_. And don’t worry...this one is on the house!”

“ _AHHHHH!!!!”_

Claudia screamed as the demon’s fingers began to curl into a claw-like gesture, and she writhed in pain when she felt as if something was splitting behind her skull. The demon laughed as she tried to flail about, failing quite miserably in her feeble attempts to escape. When the demon had finished his work, he released Claudia from his hold, and she crumpled rather unceremoniously onto the floor. Too weak to fight back and quite disoriented, she was helpless to do anything other than listen to the words spoken by the demon looming overhead.

“You were brave to come here, so ill prepared,” the demon rumbled. “But I’ve got to love a woman who’s got guts. So here’s my parting gift.”

Claudia shuddered when felt more than saw the demon crouch down beside her. She choked back a sob when she felt his warm breath by her ear as he whispered.

“I’ve made it so you won’t have to watch your little boy lose his soul.”

“...no...” Claudia finally managed to barely croak, but by then she was speaking to no one; the demon had gone.

She didn’t know how long she laid there at first, slipping in and out of consciousness. Eventually though, she found the strength within herself to push herself off the floor and slowly stumble her way out of the house and back to her rental car, which the demon mercifully left untouched.

Claudia barely remembered the drive back to the airport, nor could she quite recall how she managed to purchase the right plane ticket, get on said plane, and somehow make it back home. The worst of it all, of course, was that she could feel it. She could  _feel_ the damage that the demon had done with morbid certainty. The change inside of her; a dying spark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if things go as I've currently planned it, we should hit Season Oneish elements in about 3-4 chapters from now. Just as a heads up for anyone that is curious.


	5. Innocence Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's true Alpha nature has not yet awakened, but he still somehow unofficially puts together his first pack. Peter’s psychopathic tendencies show hints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter borrows a lot from Season 3x08’s “The Visionary” and provides an AU interpretation of Derek’s first love interest in Paige. The relationship between them is mostly how it is in canon, and I didn’t see the need to include all the dialogue from the episode, so most of it is summarized in descriptive form. 
> 
> This chapter was supposed to split between Derek’s sophomore and senior years in high school, but I ended up deciding against it. Partially because it made the chapter too long, but also partially because the transition ended up being a little awkward. So, all that really means is that there will be approximately three more pre-Season One chapters instead of the two more I’d planned before we hit canonical elements. Sorry about that!
> 
> There are some introductions of some potentially recurring OC characters in this chapter, and definite deviations from canon as per usual to fit the overall goal I’m working towards. Also, there’s a bit of a play on the whole concept of “sons attracted to their mothers,” but rather than a mother complex it’s more of a Derek and Stiles subtly get attracted to certain types of traits in other people. Any such hints are meant to lay the groundwork for eventual Sterek more than anything else. Not sure if anyone noticed, but I did already hint at a few things for Stiles in earlier chapters; this chapter is more Derek-centric. If none of this makes sense to you now, don’t worry about it. I might not be explaining things as clearly as I probably could anyway, partially for sake of avoiding too much spoilerage from happening, but I do promise that it should all make sense later on! By the way, I also create my own head-canon regarding Peter’s psychotic behavior and explanations for why sometimes the bite takes and why other times it doesn’t.
> 
> Also, I just want to take a brief moment to squee over the fact that I have such wonderful readers. Thanks to all those who leave kudos, thoughtful comments, or heartwarming notes on your bookmarks that let me know you're anticipating the next chapter. It means a lot more than you probably realize, and I'm sure others who write creatively, whether it be on this site or elsewhere, would agree with me wholeheartedly!
> 
> (Feel free to breathe a sigh of relief that, with most of the heavyset explanations out of the way for the time being, these author’s notes will start to get shorter and shorter unless something crops up again that I think needs to be explained in detail. After all, I did promise to only write a lot of pre-chapter warble if I was sure it would be worth readers’ time, haha.)

_September, 2004_

Derek spent most of his high school years with his two best friends, Hayden Becker and Travis Carmichael. The former was a childhood friend, and the latter he met through basketball. They sometimes hung out with Hayden’s older brother, Keith Becker, who was three years older than them. The Beckers were both blond-haired, blue-eyed beauties, and with matching cheeky personalities. Derek was almost the polar opposite, dark-haired and with green eyes that often fluctuated in color depending on his mood—they could shift from green to grey or hazel, and sometimes even shone blue in rare instances. Travis, on the other hand, was somewhere in between them all, with dark brown hair and amber eyes. Together, they were undoubtedly the four most wanted athletic bachelors of Beacon Hills High School. They called themselves The Wolfpack, which most assumed was just a silly “bro” joke between them, but really it was more than that.

In a time where Derek was more innocent and carefree, he’d easily broken his mother’s rule of never sharing the secrets of his lineage with humans. He relied on the loose interpretation of the rule, that those you can trust with your life can be _pack_ , and so he had told each of his friends when he’d felt that they had earned his trust. Swearing them to secrecy not only to their fellow humans, but also to feign ignorance around his family.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Derek had shown Hayden first, when they were in kindergarten. Admittedly, that reveal had been a little impulsive. Back then, Derek had been an easy target. He was a bit on the small and scrawny side; pasty skin tone as well. Though he technically possessed twice the strength of any human kid, he knew better than to go against his mother’s strict orders of using it to fight against his bullies. So Derek had obediently held it all in.

During one particularly bad beating, Hayden had intervened. Initially, Derek had wondered if perhaps the blonde was a werewolf too, the way he had pulled those kids off him and seemingly tossed them aside like they were nothing. It wasn’t until after the fact, when Hayden’s eye was beginning to swell and his bruised lip didn’t heal at record speeds shortly after the tousle, that Derek realized that this boy was just an exceptional human being.

“You fought them all by yourself…!” Derek said to Hayden in awe.

The blonde grinned back at him. “Yeah? So?”

“You’re strong...” Derek said, shaking his head.

“You looked like you needed help.”

Derek frowned a bit then, stuck out his chin. “I can take care of myself!”

“Yeah?” Hayden replied just as challengingly. “Then how come you didn’t?”

“I can’t.”

“See?”

“No!” Derek said with a frown. “I’m not allowed to. My mommy says.”

“That’s stupid,” Hayden said, mirroring Derek’s frown with one of his own. “My brother says you should always fight back.”

“Your brother’s stupid.”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“Not!”

“Too!”

“Not!”

“Ugh! You don’t get it,” Derek said finally in frustration, rolling his eyes and grabbing Hayden’s wrist, dragging the other boy along with him. Someplace where they would be out of sight. “Let me show you.”

Derek was still young, so he couldn’t control his shift very well yet, but he could at the very least form fangs and change his eye color yellow. Hayden’s jaw dropped in shock.

“ _Whoa..._ ” he said, mesmerized. “ _Cool_ …!”

Derek’s curled into a small smirk. Then, without warning, he smacked the palms of his hands against Hayden’s chest—not at full strength, but just enough to prove his point. The force of the contact threw the other boy back a short distance with considerable ease. Adrenaline helped popped Hayden right back onto his feet, looking back at Derek in wonder.

“How did you do that?!” Hayden asked. “Golly…! You _are_ strong…!”

“ _Told_ you so!” Derek said, lifting his chin. “My mommy just says I can’t.”

“That rule is still stupid,” said Hayden.

Derek couldn’t help his lips quirking a little bit at that. His expression became one of confusion when Hayden marched up to him and held out his hand.

“My name’s Hayden!” said Hayden. “What’s yours?”

Derek blinked before replying awkwardly. “Derek,” said Derek. “Um...why are you giving me your hand?”

“It’s a handshake, silly!” Hayden said, laughing. “It means we can be friends! Here, let me show you.”

“Friends?” Derek asked as he let Hayden grab one of his hands and shake it once.

Hayden’s smile faltered a little bit as he dropped their hands. “...you don’t want to be friends?”

He shifted the weight on his feet while Derek contemplated for a moment. Finally, Derek answered after a few seconds, though of course to a child it seemed like an eternity.

Derek’s smile had been a bit shy as he nodded. “Okay, I guess.”

Hayden’s bright smile returned with full force. Derek hadn’t entirely understood the meaning of the word at the time, but he had liked the sound of it. In the days that followed, the more he learned about what it meant, the more he became grateful for it.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Hayden’s older brother had been the next to find out, naturally. That one hadn’t happened until their last year of elementary school, and Hayden’s older brother was in the seventh grade. Derek’s being a werewolf was a well-kept secret between two best friends for a time, but when Talia Hale taught her son about the definition of “pack” and its importance, Hayden suggested that they include his brother into the fold. Derek had been hesitant, at first. They’d had the conversation whilst playing in the wooded area behind the Becker’s residence.

“Mm...I don’t know, Hayden,” Derek said. He wouldn’t start calling his best friend by a shortened version of his last name until they’d start playing boys basketball in middle school, trying to copy the older boys on the team in the way they called each other by nicknames that were supposed to make them sound cool. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be telling anyone about it that’s not a werewolf.”

“But you told me!” Hayden protested. “Besides, my brother’s cool! You know him!”

“Yeah, well, I _had_ to show you,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. “You thought I was a chicken.”

“I never said that!”

“Whatever. You thought about it.”

“But I didn’t say it!”

Derek growled. It did nothing to deter the laughter that emitted from his best friend.

“ _Come on_ , Derek!” said Hayden. “My brother won’t tell anybody.”

“Fine...”

“ _Yes!_ ” Hayden said, doing some sort of reverse-fist pump motion with both arms that looked like he was doing a quick pull-up with air. “ _So_ awesome!”

“...but I need to trust him first.”

Hayden tilted his head in confusion. “Huh?”

Derek mumbled. “Well...my mom says that to be _pack_ , you need to trust who you want to show before you show them.”

Hayden blinked. “Oh.”

Derek shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Mm...okay! No problem!” Hayden said with a smile. “He just has to show you that you can trust him, right?”

“Right...” Derek said, somewhat warily as he noticed a rather familiar glint in his best friend’s eye; one that usually meant something was about to happen that he probably wasn’t going to like.

“I’ve got it!” Hayden said, jumping excitedly. “I’ve got an idea!”

Derek involuntarily gulped. Hayden dragged Derek along, closer to some tall trees.

“You said you know how to climb really high, right?” asked Hayden.

“Yes…?” Derek said, eying his friend suspiciously. “So?”

“ _So_ …!” Hayden said excitedly. “You’re going to climb really high up, and my brother is going to get you down!”

Derek frowned. “What? How? I can get down on my own.”

Hayden groaned and smacked a hand to his face dramatically. “No, _stupid…_! I _know_ you can climb down by yourself…!”

“...then I don’t get it.”

His best friend sighed. “ _Look_ ,” he said with hands on his hips, acting as if he were several years older than Derek and he actually had a right to be lecturing. “You climb up the tree, I tell my brother you are _stuck_ in the tree, and then we’ll see how hard he tries to help you down.”

Derek’s eyebrows raised slightly. Hayden paused to take in a short breath before continuing.

“If he tries really hard to help you down, _then_ we will know that you can trust him, and you can make him part of our pack!” said Hayden. “It’ll be great! My brother’s _awesome_.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You said that already.”

“Well, he _is…_!” said Hayden. “He plays basketball. He’s on the team at school!”

“Big deal...” Derek muttered.

“ _Derek_ …!” Hayden whined.

Derek slumped his shoulders and sighed. “All right, all right...if it means that much to you.”

He didn’t miss the bit of uncertainty that flashed in his best friend’s eyes. Hayden’s brows furrowed together slightly.

“You don’t like my brother…? Is that it?” Hayden asked softly.

Derek shook his head and half-smiled. “No, Hayden,” said Derek. “That’s not true.”

Hayden shoved his hands in his pockets then and kicked at a pile of leaves. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. It’s a stupid plan.”

Derek chuckled. “Thought you said all your plans are ‘ _awesome_.’ I mean, that’s like your favorite word.”

He tried not to burst out laughing when Hayden looked up at him hopefully. “You’ll do it?”

Derek snorted softly. “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

Hayden brightened up again instantly. “Awesome!”

Derek rolled his eyes before scanning them around until he spotted a tree he liked. “I’ll try that one.”

“Okay! I’ll go get my brother!”

“Wait! _Hayden!_ ” Derek called after his friend, groaning as Hayden ran back to his house without a second thought. Derek grumbled. “At least give me a minute to climb high first...”

He managed to scramble surprisingly high up by the time Hayden got back with his brother, Keith. “See! Look! He’s all the way up there! He’s stuck!”

To say that Keith’s jaw dropped simply from shock was an understatement. There was quite a bit of bewilderment in his expression as well.

“Holy _cow…_!” Keith said, enunciating each syllable. “How the heck did you get all the way up there by yourself, Hale?”

“Um...” Derek said, blinking as he wondered how he was supposed to act. “Help…?”

Hayden was behind him, so Keith didn’t see his little brother smack a hand to his face. He mumbled under his breath, but only Derek’s ears picked up what his friend was saying.

“At least _pretend_ you’re a little bit scared, Derek. Geez.”

Derek did his best to suppress his lips from quirking in amusement and tried to look more terrified. Turned out, it kind of helped that he wanted to laugh. It gave him a bit of a stutter.

“C-can y-you help me come d-down?” he asked.

He watched as Keith licked at his lips and wiped his palms on his pants. Derek could smell the nervous perspiration.

“Yeah, all right,” Keith said as he approached the base of the tree. “Just hang on tight and don’t let go, okay? I’m going to try and get you down. Don’t panic. Stay calm.”

It took a great deal of effort for Derek not to make a face. He wasn’t at all panicked, and he _was_ calm. Not the point though, of course.

He watched Hayden rock on his heels a bit nervously as Keith lifted himself up a few branches. Derek almost started to move to meet his friend’s older brother halfway—he knew how much Hayden looked up to and cared for his older brother. Keith was his hero, and the two got along surprisingly great for siblings. Derek argued with his all the time. Then again, Derek always wondered if it was one of those one brother outnumbered by two sisters kind of thing.

Just as he made to move down a branch, he stopped when he saw Keith’s head snap up to look at him. The older boy shook his head.

“Hey, don’t move, all right?” said Keith. “I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”

“Keith, maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all,” Hayden said below him. “Maybe we should tell Mom and Dad.”

“Don’t you dare, Hayden! Mom and Dad would kill us if they saw what we were doing right now.”

“But…!”

“Look, you want to get in trouble for not telling them first or what?”

“Okay...” Hayden said, worrying his lower lip a little bit. “Just be careful...”

“Yeah, yeah...” Keith grumbled, but it was only loud enough for Derek to hear. “How the heck did he manage to get up so high anyway?”

Derek felt guilty hearing the way Keith’s heart sounded like it wanted to pound right out of his ribcage. He decided right then and there that he would tell Keith his secret, as soon as the older boy brought them both back down.

“Okay, come on,” Keith said right when he got close enough to Derek. “Can you get on my back? I’ll piggy back you down.”

Derek nodded and found a way to slide down. He was surprised to hear Keith’s heart rate start to get a little less frantic, and he realized that maybe the older boy had been less fearful for himself and more worried about Derek possibly breaking a few bones, had he fallen. When they finally hit the ground, Keith checked Derek over to make sure he wasn’t hurt before frowning at him and Hayden.

“Seriously, guys?!” he said. “What were you two thinking? That was dangerous! Don’t ever do that again.”

“We won’t!” Derek and Hayden quipped simultaneously.

Keith sighed when the two boys latched themselves onto either of his legs, giving his thighs a hug. He ruffled the hair on both their heads.

“Thank you, Keith,” they both said again, together.

“Yeah, all right, you numbskulls.”

Hayden pulled back and looked at Derek. “Okay to show him now?”

Keith raised an eyebrow when Derek nodded. “Show me what?”

“Derek’s a werewolf!” Hayden said excitedly before lowering his voice a bit when Derek shot him a glare. “Oops...sorry. Um...we can’t tell anybody though. Not even Mom and Dad.”

Thinking it was just a pair of kids with an overactive imagination, Keith chuckled and shook his head. “Werewolf, huh?” he asked his brother. “You’ve got an overactive imagination, Hayes.”

“No! I’m telling the truth!” Hayden said with a frown. “Show him, Derek!”

Keith had been ready to play along with, and expecting, Derek to do something like roar and make claw-like motions with his hands. What he _didn’t_ expect, was for Derek to suddenly develop fangs and his eyes to change color from a normal green to something a bit more golden yellow. For the second time in a short period, Keith’s jaw dropped open.

“ _Whoa_...” he said.

Hayden beamed. “That’s what _I_ said!”

They later explained to Keith the meaning of being part of a pack, and how he couldn’t tell anyone else. Keith had been more than agreeable and told them their secret was safe.

“Besides,” Keith told them, shaking his head as they all walked the short distance back to the house. “Even if I told anybody, they would all think I was crazy. _Trust me_. At least you two can get away with being cute little kids with big, overactive imaginations.”

“See! _Told you_ we could trust him!” Hayden said, nudging Derek gleefully.

“Yeah, yeah...you were right, I was wrong...” Derek said, rolling his eyes.

Keith chuckled as he watched his little brother skip into the house before either he or Derek could. “Sorry my brother can be such a brat sometimes, Derek.”

“It’s okay,” Derek said, looking up at Keith with a small smile. “He’s still a good friend.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Travis was brought into the fold after an incident during basketball camp, something Derek went to against his parents’ suggestion. The only reason why he’d been able to go was due to his Uncle Peter’s promises that he’d look out for his nephew, on the condition that he’d do so incognito—Derek did not want his friends to know that he was being followed.

He hadn’t needed to worry, however. Under the appearance that he was “trusting” Derek, Peter was more than happy to linger in the shadows and observe. No one realized it then, but Peter was hoping for Derek to someday lose his control. Deep within Peter, the seeds of greed were beginning to grow; he was developing a thirst for power. Once he’d learned that humans could be turned by the effects of a wolf bite, Peter was looking forward to creating his own pack and becoming their Alpha. He contemplated perhaps one day overthrowing his sister, Talia Hale.

Derek had been acting a bit skittish most of one afternoon. He, Travis, Hayden, and Keith were all sharing one tent, and at some point, Derek slipped away, muttering some half-baked excuse of wanting to get some fresh air. The other boys hadn’t paid much mind to it at the time, though when he didn’t return for several hours, Travis offered to go and look for their friend. After all, he had to answer nature’s call, so he figured that he was the best candidate for the job.

Of course, that’s when Peter saw his opportunity. He inwardly bubbled with glee watching the brunette get progressively more paranoid by Peter’s rustlings in the forest. When he felt that they were a fair enough distance away from the camp, Peter made his move. He threw back his head and howled. He enjoyed the way Travis froze in place and rapidly sucked in a breath, eyes wide.

“Shit...” he heard Travis mutter nervously under his breath. “That sounded a little too close…!”

Peter grinned when he heard Derek’s responding howl. He knew it would only be a matter of time now.

Sure enough, just as Travis seemed to regain control of his legs and started to speed walk a little back towards the campsite, there was a rustling of leaves as Derek charged toward Peter’s direction. Which, consequently, was also in Travis’ general vicinity. Peter suspected Derek had too much adrenaline pumping through his veins to pay much attention; he was certain his nephew was only expecting him right now, in the forest.

So when Derek popped out of some bushes right where his friend Travis was standing, both boys were taken completely by surprise. In fact, Travis had been caught so off-guard, he’d accidentally fallen back on his behind. Travis shone his light on Derek, to get a better look. Hs lips quickly rounded and his eyes grew wide like saucers when Derek let out an involuntary snarl and raised one of his clawed hands, recoiling at the brightness.

“ _Ho_ -mi- _god_ …!” Travis exclaimed as he immediately scrambled to his feet and began running back to the campsite, as fast as his feet could carry him. “Holyshitholyshitholyshit…!”

Peter’s grin grew wider when Derek let out a growl of annoyance; he was counting on his nephew forgetting about meeting up with him and chasing after his friend instead, in equal panic. Derek roared after Travis, forgetting initially to transform back so that his words sounded more human and less distorted in order to allay his friend.

He remembered about halfway back to the campsite, and so he skid to a stop in his tracks. He let out another frustrated growl as he tried to concentrate on getting back to his human appearance. He was still experiencing difficulties in controlling his shift.

Travis practically flew back into the boys’ tent, earning himself curious looks from the Becker brothers, who saw how pale in the face he was, and out of breath. Hayden raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with you, Trav?” he asked. “You look like you’ve been running from a ghost or something.”

“Nngh…! _No_ ,” Travis said, breathing harshly and shaking his head. “No, no. Not a ghost. It was a... _oh man…_! It was a…!”

“Whoa, now there, slow down,” said Keith. “Catch your breath. There, that’s it. Now start over. What did you see?”

“It’s a...look, I don’t even know how to explain it,” said Travis. “It looked like an animal, but it was standing upright like a man, and like...I think it was wearing _clothes…_?! Haha...jeezus, I probably sound totally crazy right now, don’t I?”

He was so bewildered that he missed the looks that were exchanged between the two brothers. Travis shook his head some more.

“I _swear_ though…!” he said. “I saw _something_ out there, it started chasing me, so I ran. And I have no idea where Derek is, and—”

“Ah, um...” Hayden started a bit uncertainly. “You said it was wearing something?”

Travis nodded. “Yeah. I mean...I know that sounds totally crazy, but…!”

“Do you remember what it was?” Hayden asked. “Or what you think it was?”

“Wait…! You guys believe me?” Travis asked.

“Just answer the question, man,” Keith said calmly.

“Okay! I mean...” Travis scrunched his face while he thought for a moment. “This is going to sound even more nuts, but I’m pretty sure it looked like it was wearin’ one of our jerseys…?”

The Beckers exchanged another look. “Think it’s him?” Hayden asked his brother.

Keith shrugged. “Who else would it be? You remember him telling us about how his parents didn’t want him camping this weekend? Something about a new moon?”

“Mm...yeah,” Hayden said with a nod. “You think…?”

“We should probably go check on him,” Keith confirmed.

“Uh...you guys going to tell me what y’all are talking about here?” Travis asked, his eyes flitting between the two brothers. “Because I’m starting to think you two know something that I don’t...”

Hayden half-smiled at him. “Where did you say you saw this again?”

“What? Oh no, oh no, no, no. I’m not going back out there,” Travis said, shaking his head furiously. “Not in a million years, guys! I’m lucky whatever it was didn’t follow me all the way back here. It was pretty fast.”

Hayden ran a hand through his hair and let out a soft sigh. “Er...it’s all right, Travis. My brother and I...we’re pretty sure we know who it was you saw out there.”

“Yeah, and he’s pretty much harmless,” Keith said with a chuckle. “Despite how he might look right now.”

“ _What?_ No. You two can go ahead and look for Bigfoot if you want,” said Travis. “But I’m telling you, I ain’t going back out there with y’all. Nuh-uh!”

“Oh my _god_ , would you stop being such a baby?!” Hayden said, rolling his eyes. “Hey bro, can you grab him?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, I got you.”

“Wait, wha— _mmph_ …!” Travis cried out, eyes wide and the volume of his shouts muted by Keith’s hand over it as the older boy pushed him out of the tent, with Hayden following close behind.

“Shut up, dude…!” Keith hissed. “Do you want to get us in trouble with Coach?”

“Mm-mm! Mm-mm!” Travis grunted, shaking his head.

Keith sighed. “Good. Just point to where we need to be looking.”

Travis raised a quivering hand in the direction where he had come from before looking between the two Becker brothers with pleading eyes, as if asking if they were going to let him go now. Hayden shook his head.

“Naw, man. You’re coming with us. We have to show you something.”

Ignoring their friend’s muffled protests and struggling, the two brothers dragged Travis back towards the clearing where he’d run into Derek. Sure enough, they ran into him on the way there. When they did, Travis increased in his efforts to try to wiggle out of the brothers’ clutches, despite Hayden’s efforts to get him to calm down.

Finally, Hayden just sighed and gave up, turning his attention to the werewolf in front of him instead. “Derek?”

The werewolf grunted, nodding in the affirmative. The acknowledgment was enough to get Travis to stop moving for a minute as his eyes darted between the werewolf and Hayden.

His eyebrows moved, questioning as he said something behind Keith’s hand, which muffled his words, but it definitely sounded like he was asking _wait—that’s Derek?!_ _Why the hell does he look like that, then?_

Hayden chuckled. “You’re looking a little hairy there, dude.”

Derek growled in annoyance. “ _You_ try learning to control your shift as a werewolf,” he said in his gravelly werewolf voice. “It’s not as easy as you’d think. At least the moon isn’t full tonight.”

“Well, regardless, you scared the living bejeezus out of this one,” Keith said, he and his brother simultaneously letting go of Travis’ arms and the hand taken off his mouth.

Travis immediately gasped for air, making heaving noises as he did so. Once he collected himself, he addressed all three individuals at once.

“Okay, _first of all…_! I just need confirmation that I’m not about to be ritually sacrificed or something,” Travis started, relaxing a little only when the others shook their heads and Hayden let out a little snort. He narrowed his eyes at the younger Becker. “Great. Thanks. Glad to see y’all find that _really funny_.”

“Because you’re being totally over dramatic, man,” Keith said, shaking his head. “We’re your friends. Of course we wouldn’t try to kill you.”

“Yeah, and if you had just trusted us from the get-go, this all could have gone a whole lot more smoothly,” Hayden agreed.

“Well, how was I supposed to know he’s Derek?” Travis asked, gesturing wildly in said werewolf’s direction. “I mean, look at him! What are you, anyway…?”

He asked the last question while looking curiously at Derek, who huffed at him. Hayden chuckled.

“He might look a little different, but he sure glares the same,” he said with a grin before answering Travis’ question. “He’s a werewolf, Trav.”

A brief moment of silence settled between the four friends while Travis took a moment to process the whole thing. When Hayden’s words finally seemed to register, Travis smacked a hand to his face and made a wiping motion down from his forehead to his chin.

“Yup, okay, I’m done,” he said as he turned around to walk back to the campsite.

Hayden laughed. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“Where do you think? I’m going to bed!” Travis replied while shaking his head. “It’s late, I’m tired, and when I wake up, I’m going to find out that this was just one crazy dream I’ve been having.”

“Yeah, you do that man,” Hayden said with a snort before glancing back at Derek. “You going to be alright?”

Derek nodded. “I think so...”

They all turned their heads when they heard Peter howl in the distance, though only Derek knew who it was calling for him. He looked back at his friends.

“You guys go on ahead. I’ll head back to the tent later.”

“You sure?” Keith asked.

“Yeah,” said Derek. “I’ll be back once I’m able to shift back.”

“All right,” said Keith. “Come on, Hayes.”

Derek watched the two brothers start walking back to camp before he turned and ran in the opposite direction. True to his word, he returned to camp later on that night after he’d managed to shift back.

The next morning, when they all woke up, Travis stared at Derek for what seemed like a long time as they all basked in silence. Finally, he decided to speak just before their coach would call them out for roll call.

“Last night really happened, didn’t it?” he asked.

There was no movement at first, but then Derek nodded. Travis sighed and scratched at the back of his neck.

“Okay...and how many people know?”

“Just us, Trav,” said Hayden. “You, me, my brother...you can’t tell anyone else, alright?”

“Hey, who would I tell?” Travis said with a shrug before looking pointedly at Derek. “I’ve got your back, man, alright? Same as they do. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Again, Derek didn’t react right away, but he did eventually crack a small smile. His friend’s heartbeat was steady. Travis wasn’t lying.

»»-------------¤-------------««

That was how the four boys became an unofficial pack. Derek avoided telling his parents about it; he had a feeling they wouldn’t have approved.

Just like they wouldn’t have approved of Derek falling for a human girl at school. Which was why, aside from his best friends, the only person he told that was a member of his family was Peter. It was one of the decisions he would come to regret deeply, when reviewing the situations that followed afterward.

The concept of soulmates was sacred, that’s what Derek had always been taught. Back then though, Derek was nothing but impatient. Not to mention a hopeless romantic. He wouldn’t learn until much later that there was a reason why he was wired that way. It was to fit perfectly with a specific person. His true mate.

Peter was partly to blame for this, of course. That, and the teenage hormones.

Derek’s mother had warned him about going against destiny before. Werewolves were bound by two things—choosing one mate for life and the soulmark linking them to that mate. Infidelity had its consequences, particularly when the inner wolf had already chosen. Had Derek known what to look for, he would have realized long ago that his wolf had already started the bond.

It had been no coincidence that Stiles had felt compelled to wander into the forest, so shortly after Derek had gotten caught in the trap. Nor had the fact that the reason Derek had gotten caught in the first place was because he had been so distracted by a scent that not only stood out, it _called_ to him, much in the same way it had done again later, at the elementary school. His hesitance to leave the boy behind, the way they seemed to have connected through passing touch, and the fleeting thoughts he’d had of wanting to keep his promise to see the boy again. The signs were all there—Derek was just oblivious to them.

To find perfect compatibility with a human was rare. They could be such fickle creatures, after all, and werewolves required permanence in their relationships. To have such an age gap between mates wasn’t unusual, however. Back in the days before humans took up arms and became hunters—once upon a time they had little reason to fear mythical creatures and lived harmoniously together with them—when werewolves were plenty and there was a royal hierarchy in existence, having older werewolves stumble across a true mate that was younger wasn’t altogether uncommon. There were protocols in place to address such situations, and biology cooperated with them. Werewolves would never experience sexual awakening towards their underage partners until their mates came of age, but in the meantime they still instinctively felt the need to execute their role as protector and caregiver. It was just as well, because it gave werewolves and their mates a chance to develop a bond of friendship, and oftentimes the resulting inevitable relationship would develop all the better for it.

Still, head knowledge was no replacement for firsthand experience coupled with awareness, and in lacking either, Derek found himself falling headfirst in love with Paige Krasikeva, who smelled of wood, resin, and something floral.

Peter was twisted, but he didn’t know that. Not then. Or perhaps not consciously. Which is why he listened to his uncle’s whispers; began to obsess over the thought of a love that would last forever, but in the way of a child.

To go against fate’s perfect design would end in disaster. Derek learned that the hard way, though the lesson never quite stuck. The irony, perhaps, being that each individual, mythical or not, had personality traits built into them that were meant to complement their true other half to the letter. Derek’s sensitivity and romanticism at the core was both his greatest feature and major Achilles’ Heel.

He never should have agreed to Peter’s arrangement, to give Paige the bite, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. It wasn’t until he held the dying girl in her arms, by the Nemeton, that Derek was hit with the full force of guilt and shame that resulted from his mistake. He also knew somehow, in her final moments and even without checking for her mark that she wasn’t his One.

She was something though. Turned out, she was an empath. They weren’t anomalies limited to the Campbell line, though there was just something about their lineage that made them stronger. It partially had to do with the abilities only certain men of the Campbell clan possessed, making them different. Not quite druid; not quite spark. It was something more pure and lacking filter. It’s what made their powers so difficult to harness and control. It’s reemergence in Stiles, after hundreds of years, was a harbinger. Of hope or of death, that remained to be seen.

Paige was an empath, but one that had still been in development. She could at the very least _sense_ , but she could not yet _read_. Her last words implied as much.

“ _I knew_...” she whispered.

Derek’s expression was filled with anguish. “What do you mean?”

“Right after I told you my name, I think I knew,” she said, struggling to get the words out, but oddly determined. “I've seen things in this town before, things no one really could explain. And then there's the way that you talk...how you say things, like how you'd catch a scent. And I know you can hear things, things that no one else can hear. _I knew._ ”

“And you still liked me?” Derek asked, soft and afraid.

“I loved you,” she whispered, and it was strange, how she didn’t seem to expect him to reply with the same. “I'm gonna die...aren't I? _Ow._ I can't. I can't take it anymore. Derek, I can't…! _Derek_...please. _Please…!_ ”

Even knowing she’d forgiven him before he’d kill her didn’t make performing the deed any easier. The fact was, the bite didn’t always take, but no one really understood the pattern. At least, not anymore, anyway. That ancient knowledge was buried somewhere far back in the past, right along with the history of werewolves living peacefully alongside humans.

Had information passed down the way it should have, he and Peter would have known. The bite only took if there was ignorance of the gift or reciprocation. Paige’s situation was neither. She hadn’t truly wanted the bite, nor was she unknowing of what had bit her.

Derek trembled as he brought her close to his chest and he gathered his strength. He blinked once, and then his eyes glowed.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry…” he cried tearfully as he made quick work of cracking her spine.

He’d known after she died that something had changed, and it wasn’t just how broken he felt in his heart. He knew something was wrong with his eyes before his mother even found him by the Nemeton, even if he didn’t know specifically that they had altered to blue in color.

»»-------------¤-------------««

At the same time Derek’s mother was comforting him and saving her reprimands for Peter, Stiles had woken up in a cold sweat screaming, though he’d been unable to tell his parents afterward whether it was a nightmare that had roused him.

Eventually, Claudia was able to soothe her son back to sleep, but it wasn’t quite restful for him. He’d been unable to articulate it then, but he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally didn't realize how many days it's been since my last update, mostly because I'm in the middle of exams at uni right now and so I couldn't sit down and straight up write story nonstop for hours like I wanted to, but talk about yikes! Hopefully the length of this chapter made up for it! Already plugging away on the next bit. For once, I hope my insomnia holds. Too tired to write my academic paper, but not too tired for this!


	6. One Sharp Detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek meets Kate Argent for the first time when he’s still 16 and a sophomore in high school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to changes that ended up happening as a result of a reader helping me find and make sense of some dates, Derek is a year older than most of his peers in the same grade as opposed to a year behind like I had him originally when I laid this fic out, although in the first half of every school year (before his birthday in December) he's the same age as everyone else.
> 
> Just as a heads up, this is my AU interpretation of Derek and Kate’s relationship, and there will definitely be elements that deviate from canon. Like when and how they meet and interact, certain conversations they have, etc. Also, underage tag super applies here. If you find it a trigger to read details regarding Derek and Kate’s relationship while he’s still in high school, definitely skip this chapter. While I acknowledge the whole thing is canon and contributes to Derek’s character development, I’m not a huge fan of the storyline and so I do brush over any mentions of sex extremely quickly.
> 
> About three more chapters until we hit “present day”/Season One elements. Get ready for some major deviations though, after that point, because I’m going to be ignoring a lot of canon to get the story to flow the way I’m envisioning it right now. 
> 
> Sorry that this is another short chapter, but that's probably because it was supposed to be the latter half of the previous one. Already charging ahead on the next bit (been writing a bit of it in between finishing up this one, in fact), so hopefully the next update will happen sooner rather than later.

_Early December, 2004_

Derek’s head snapped towards Hayden when he heard his friend let out a light, appreciative whistle. They had just gotten off Thanksgiving break, and had just gotten out of Travis’ car. They were all old enough to drive, but Travis was the only one who had parents that trusted him enough not to do something reckless. Keith still hung out with them sometimes, when he was in town, but these days he was mostly off in college, somewhere in New York. He had graduated from Beacon Hills High School when they others were still juniors.

“What?” Derek asked, arching an eyebrow at his friend.

Hayden just simply tilted his chin in the direction of a tall blonde woman. “Holy hell…! I wonder if she’s a parent or a new teacher?”

Travis saw who he was talking about before Derek did and scrunched his nose. “ _Gross_ , dude…!” he said, shaking his head in disapproval. “She’s like... _old_ …!”

“What are you talking about, man? You’ve got no taste!” Hayden said with a laugh. “She’s totally hot!”

It took Derek a moment to spot who his friends were talking about, but when he did, his breath hitched. He felt his cheeks grow a bit warm with the older blonde woman he and Hayden were ogling just happened to look in their direction.

Hayden eyed his friend and grinned. “Well? What do you think, Hale?”

“Holy crap, don’t answer that…!” Travis said, shaking his head as he began to take a couple steps away from his friends. “Because we have no idea if she can read lips and she’s walking on over here right now and— _okay_ , I will see you two later. I’m out of here.”

“Well, howdy boys,” the blonde woman said as she approached Derek and Hayden. She flashed her white teeth as she placed a hand on her hip and looked at the pair coyly. “I hear you two are part of something called a Wolf Gang?”

“That’s Wolfpack, ma’am!” Hayden replied cheerfully. “No gang activity here.”

“Ah, _of course_ ,” the woman said with a smile as she half-lidded her eyes. “My mistake. The Wolf _pack_ ,” she corrected easily. “You all are quite the hot topic of conversation in these halls, I hear. It’s a pleasure to meet you boys. I’m Kate.”

“Are you a new teacher?” Hayden blurted out suddenly.

Kate chuckled. “Well aren’t you darling? And no, not quite. I just happen to be the new guidance counselor.”

“Oh,” Hayden said with a smile. “That’s great! It’s nice to meet you, Kate. I’m Hayden.”

Kate gave him a nod in acknowledgment and smiled at Derek. “And who might _you_ be, hm?”

When Derek floundered for words, Hayden laughed and swung an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “This right here is Derek.”

Derek hoped his face didn’t look as warm as it felt. “H-hi...” he stammered.

“Well, aren’t you cute,” Kate almost purred, poking a finger against Derek’s chest to place emphasis on her words. “I’ll see you boys around…!”

With that, she turned from them and sashayed down the hall. When she’d turned the corner, Hayden looked over at his friend and nudged Derek in the chest with his elbow.

“ _Dude_. I think she totally digs you,” Hayden said with a grin.

Derek blushed. “Y-yeah…? You think…?”

“Oh _hell yeah_ ,” Hayden said with a laugh as he flung an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Come on, you lucky duck. Let’s get to class.”

Derek half-smiled and let out a shy laugh through his nostrils as he allowed himself to get led down the hall. It never once struck either of the boys as strange how Kate just seemed to know exactly who they were. High school rumor mill or otherwise.

»»-------------¤-------------««

The first time Derek really got to talk to Kate on a one-on-one basis was when he was called into her office to discuss his future plans. The appointment had started off normally enough. Kate had drawn out his file and rattled off a few basic facts; asked him a few questions regarding where he’d like to go to college and so forth. It wasn’t until towards the latter half of the meeting where the conversation took a slightly odd turn.

“ _So_ ,” Kate said as she leaned forward on her desk and steepled her fingers together. “I have to say, Derek, I’m surprised. You’ve only chosen schools that are in the area.”

Derek blinked. “My family’s here,” he said with a shrug. “Why would I want to leave them?”

“ _Hmm_...” Kate seemed to look thoughtful as she hummed. “Well, most boys your age would be trying to get as far away from home as possible. Experience some independence.”

Derek scrunched his nose. “But they’re _pack_ ,” he said automatically, not really thinking about the implications of his word choice.

Kate most certainly didn’t let the opportunity go to waste, however. “Oh, I see…! Well, that makes sense then.”

Realization of what he’d just revealed hit him and Derek froze. “H-huh? It...it does?”

Kate chuckled. “Silly boy...” she said, offering him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“I...” Derek paused for a moment before proceeding cautiously. “... _really?_ ”

“Yes, really,” Kate said with a nod. “I know _exactly_ what you are, Derek Hale.”

Her smile grew incrementally wider as she watched Derek gulp down his nervousness. She lowered her voice to a hushed volume.

“You’re a _werewolf_.”

Derek’s breath hitched. He abruptly scraped his chair back against the floor and was prepared to make an excuse to leave when he was stopped by Kate’s hand enveloping over one of his wrists. The grip was gentle, yet firm. He met her eyes slowly and lost a bit of the tension upon seeing the kind expression there.

“Hey... _relax_...” Kate said softly. Looking back at this memory later, Derek would describe her tone as a practiced calm, as if she were soothing a frightened animal. “Consider me an ally. Like your friends. They know too, don’t they?”

Derek moistened his lips and then nodded. “Y-yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

“They seem like a good bunch,” she said.

Derek found himself nodding again and a small smile tugged at his lips; the tension he felt was starting to leave him slowly. “Yeah...they are.”

He shivered involuntarily when Kate lightly brushed her thumb back and forth against his wrist. “Mm...but they don’t really _know_ , do they?” she asked.

Derek blinked, a heat crawling up the back of his neck as he was mildly distracted by her touch. Werewolves were quite sensitive to that sort of thing, after all.

“...what do you mean?”

“I _mean_...” Kate said, moving her head in a sort of sideways nod. “That while they might not mind who you are, they might not _understand_ you. Not entirely.”

Derek’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you…?”

Kate closed her eyes as she laughed before opening them again and staring straight at Derek. “Oh, no, no no,” she said, smiling. “I’m not, _but_...I’ve been around enough to know some things.”

“You’ve met other packs?” Derek asked curiously.

“Oh, _yes…_!” Kate said, still smiling wickedly. “And each of them has taught me something different. Some things I’ve learned, maybe even _your_ family doesn’t know. I could teach them to you sometime, if you’d like.”

That had his interest. Derek knew, from what his mother told him, that each pack had their own set of secrets that were invaluable to each clan. To possess such information and in doing so sometimes knowing the weak points of another pack could mean the difference between victory and defeat in a battle for territory.

Kate took advantage of his moment of silence to only sweeten the deal. “And I’m _sure_ there are some things that you can’t talk to them about, without wasting time on all the little details. Maybe even a few things you’re not even comfortable discussing with your family,” she said, placing careful emphasis on specific words. “I’d be more than happy to be your listening ear...and offer you some advice. You could ask me anything you want. Say whatever it is that’s on your mind. After all...I _quite like you_ , Derek.”

She entranced him with the way her fingers trailed daintily up and down his forearm, letting her scent mingle subtly with his. When she saw the quirk of his lips, her eyes flickered with _something_ in them. She knew she had him.

“That, uh...that sounds great,” he said, crease between his brows forming slightly only for just a moment. “Wait, you...you _like me?_ ”

“Oh _yes_...” Kate purred seductively. “ _Very much_...but we can talk about that more later. I’d like to see you again sometime, if that’s all right with you?”

Derek’s heart fluttered as he nodded. “U-uh, yeah...! S-sounds great…!” he said, wincing both at his clumsiness and how overly eager he sounded.

Kate chuckled. “Wonderful. Oh, and Derek…?”

Derek stopped at the door and looked back at her. Kate smiled.

“Please make sure our little conversations stay between _us_ ,” she said.

Derek bit part of his lower lip. “...what about my friends?”

“Not even then,” Kate said before letting out a small sigh. “Look, I know that sounds really hard, but you don’t want to get us in trouble, do you?”

Derek frowned. “Trouble…?”

“ _Well_ , we won’t exactly be talking about _school_ all the time now, will we?” Kate asked, arching a brow.

“Mm...I guess not,” Derek admitted.

“Right. So promise me.”

“...okay,” Derek said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I promise.”

“Good,” Kate said, expression warm again. “I’ll see you again soon, Derek.”

“Yeah...” Derek said with a small smile. “All right.”

He then left the room and shut the door gently behind him, missing the malevolent expression that had taken over Kate’s features.

»»-------------¤-------------««

If there was one thing Kate Argent was skilled at, it was patience in obtaining what she wanted. It was something ingrained in her as a hunter, but her sadistic execution of plans was a trait she picked up from her father, Gerard.

It didn’t take long to have Derek eating out of the palm of her hand; she had found him at an opportune time. He was young, inexperienced, and quite naïve when it came to trusting others. She would become the reason he’d get so good at detecting lies.

She also eventually became his best-kept secret, at least for that time. They met with growing frequency, initially mostly under the guise of counseling appointments, and then gradually secretly meeting after school hours. Kate worked her way into Derek’s affections, distracting him from rational thinking with her fleeting touches on his arms, shoulders, back, and neck. When she finally managed to kiss him on the lips for the first time, it had been such a gradual buildup that he hardly had the mind to second-guess the situation and flinch.

On one particular day, he came to her in a bit of a sour mood. She put on her sympathetic mask immediately, trailing her fingers up Derek’s chest. They were sitting against a tree on a clifftop with a view overlooking Beacon Hills.

“What’s eatin’ you up, buttercup?” she asked sweetly.

Derek let out a sigh, brows knitting together as he absently rubbed a thumb against Kate’s shoulder. “Your scent,” he huffed out. “My mom smells you on me. She asked if you were my soulmate and that if you aren’t, then that’s no good.”

“Oh? And why does she say that?” Kate asked, feigning interest.

“She says werewolves are supposed to mate for life,” said Derek. “And that that’s why it’s important we make sure to find the one who has a soulmark that matches.”

“I thought only finding a compatible scent matters?” Kate asked.

“Compatibility is important, yeah,” Derek agreed. “But soulmarks help us confirm who's supposed to be our... _one_.”

“Well I think that’s silly, don’t you?” Kate said with a pout. “I mean, that takes the fun and excitement out of romance!”

Derek snorted softly. “Yeah. Tell me about it. My mom says it’s a foolproof system, but I can’t help wondering if some people end up meeting their soulmate and just flat out hating them.”

“...I’ve heard of such things,” Kate said, smirking a little.

She could work with this, she thought. Derek looked over at her with wide eyes.

“Really?”

“Oh _sure…_!” Kate lied easily, making light little circles with her fingers on Derek’s chest. “Sometimes the whole opposites attract thing is more than just a cliché, you know. Sometimes fate plays a dirty, cruel trick and puts two people together that are just a little _too_ different from each other.”

“See? I don’t like that,” Derek said, frowning and shaking his head. “It doesn’t work.”

“You’re right,” Kate said with a nod. “It doesn’t. I like having _choice_. Which is why I appreciate the cards that I’ve been dealt.”

Derek quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Kate smiled. “I don’t have a mark.”

Derek’s eyes widened. “W-what? You...you don’t have a mark?”

“Oh, quit sounding so scandalized!” Kate said with a laugh, giving Derek a playful smack on the chest. “It’s not a big deal! It’s perfect. It means that I can be with anyone I like. Anyone I choose.”

She traced a finger along Derek’s jawline, causing him to shiver from the touch. Kate grinned.

“And _I_ choose _you_ ,” she said.

Derek hummed, pleased with what she was saying. They shared a brief kiss. When Derek pulled back though, he wore a slight frown.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone without a mark at all, though,” he said, shaking his head.

Kate paused for a moment, and then her eyes sparked as she came up with an idea. Her voice when she responded to him was low, sultry.

“Well, then...” she said with a coy smile. “Shall I show you…?”

It took less than a beat for Derek to catch her meaning, and seconds for his pupils to enlarge with want.  Kate grinned, knowing she had his complete cooperation even before he could verbalize his consent.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Kate treated sex like a sociopathic prison inmate—all ego and power play—though at the time, Derek hadn’t known any better. He was just a foolish young boy chasing lust and mistaking the taboo excitement for love.

It was fun at first, the sex. Though Paige was his first love, Kate ended up being his first everything else. He might have even learned more about pleasuring another than he would have otherwise, had he started with someone more normal; less extreme. Which was why he didn’t see how far along the deep end he’d gotten; not until it was far too late. He only saw what he wanted to see.

He viewed her caresses as loving and kind, and not for the cold, calculating ministrations they actually were. Made to distract him; to divulge important information about him and his clan. How many of them they were—how long they’d been here. Where to find them, and how to destroy them. The short version being, to circle around their vintage mansion with mountain ash, ensuring that all inside would be rendered helpless and at the mercy of any enemy who wished to conquer them.

It never once occurred to him that Kate never meant the words she said. Only touched him because she understood the significance to werewolves; how it was like a high that clouded their judgment when they were being intimate with someone. That what she drew from their nights together was not pleasure from the physical contact, which was his experience, but pure euphoria from the knowledge that she was stripping this boy, this _child_ of his innocence, his sense of self, and ultimately his happiness.

No, she never loved him. Not even once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should be finishing my academic papers and not working on this fic, but my mind keeps drawing back to it. I literally have one paper due tomorrow evening and exam in a few days right after it, and I haven’t really started writing or preparing for either. So basically, I am absolutely screwed and questioning all of my life choices.


	7. The Hardest Thing to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles loses his mother. Kate prepares to set her plan in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon seems to have Stiles at 8 and 10 at two separate points in the series for how old he is when his mom dies, because the more I look into these things, the more I’m realizing how little the series cares about continuity. SO...I’ve just decided I’m going to make Stiles 10 the year his mom passes and leave it at that. 
> 
> In addition, everything you know or think you know about the Teen Wolf and Supernatural fandoms is about to be completely wrong and change. OoOooOooo~ Hahaha. (More than it already has, at any rate, and hopefully will be all the more enjoyable as a result, but I leave the final verdict up to the readers of course.) I was going to veer more seriously off-course a little bit later, but as this chapter kept developing I figured eh, why not now.
> 
> And before we begin this chapter, I just want to give all my supporters a big, huge, digital hug! Thanks for all the support and enthusiasm!

_December, 2003_

The third time Derek met Stiles it was at the mall. He was Christmas shopping for his family. Derek gravitated towards the familiar scent before he became conscious of what he was doing. His brows creased in a light frown upon sensing a foreign property—a tinge of sadness—laced with the scent. He spotted Stiles and his father when he turned a corner, and the little boy happened to turn his head at the same time Derek was doing it. The boy’s expression brightened instantly, and he recognized Derek well before the older boy made his own realization.

“Hi!” Stiles said as he expertly slipped out of his mitten and rushed over to Derek, leaving his father behind and bewildered.

Derek opened his arms automatically, without thinking, and accepted the younger boy’s embrace when he gave it. Stiles pressed his face against Derek and laughed.

“You remembered! You kept your promise!” he said cheerfully. “I missed you!”

Derek’s mouth parted slightly to speak, but his mind drew a blank at first regarding what to say. The boy’s father caught up with them quickly.

“Stiles! Get back here! What are you doing? You don’t just walk away like that, son!”

“Daddy!” Stiles said, turning around to face his father but not letting go of Derek. “This is my friend!”

“Friend, huh...” the sheriff said, looking at Derek with skepticism.

“Uh-huh!” Stiles said with a nod. “Yeah! He read a book to me when I was in the second grade! This is—”

“Derek, sir,” Derek said, his words finally returning to him. He offered out his right hand. “Hale. Pleased to meet you.”

“Hale... _ah_ ,” said the sheriff. “You’re one of Talia’s.”

Derek nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“And how exactly is it that you know my son?” the sheriff asked with a slight tilt of the head.

Stiles rolled his eyes at this. “ _Daaad_ …! I just _told you!_ ”

“Um...my middle school had us take a field trip to your son’s elementary school a while back,” said Derek. “Community service project. They had us read to the kids.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, though!” Stiles quipped.

The sheriff chuckled at his son and gave Derek’s hand a shake. “I see. Looks like you left quite the impression.”

“Derek promised we’d see each other again!” Stiles said with excitement. “And today he kept it!”

“Oh?” the sheriff asked, brows rising. “Is that so?”

Derek half-smiled. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Can Derek do shopping with us, Daddy?” Stiles asked. “ _Pleaaaaase_ …?”

The sheriff blinked. “Er...I think Derek might have his own shopping to do, Stiles...”

“It’s, uh...no problem at all, sir,” Derek said, unconsciously giving Stiles’ shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I wouldn’t mind.”

The sheriff quirked an eyebrow, but he apparently saw no reason to keep him from doing so and nodded. Stiles bounced on the balls of his feet happily.

“ _Yay!_ ”

The trio went on to choose a nice scented candle for Stiles’ mother; Derek soon finding out through the sheriff that Claudia’s health was ailing, which explained the extra property in his son’s scent. The remainder of the trip was split between Derek shopping for his family, with some friendly suggestions tossed in by Stiles, who was more than happy to chatter with the older boy, and a few gifts for the sheriff and his son. Towards the end, Derek even found himself buying a superhero action figure for Stiles, despite the sheriff’s protests. Though he couldn’t explain it, Derek felt as if he had done the right thing by making that choice, and if anything, the smile on Stiles’ face was more than worth it.

It wasn’t until Christmas Eve that Derek realized he hadn’t bought a thing for Kate, but the thought was merely fleeting. He figured though that it didn’t much matter anyways, with the relationship being incognito, it wasn’t like he could bring her by the house.

When she expressed her disappointment later, he gave an excuse that sounded flimsy, even to his own ears. Then when she responded in anger, he chose that moment to let her know that his family was beginning to suspect, and that perhaps they should slow things down for a time. The information did happen to give her pause, and she became surprisingly amenable to the suggestion that they more frequently space out their interactions, if only to dilute her scent on him.

Her reaction should have made him suspicious, but he hadn’t known better at the time. He was, however, overcome with a sense of relief that he couldn’t explain.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_May, 2004_

Stiles stayed with his mother in her hospital room almost daily, once she’d been admitted. A week into the new year and his mother’s condition had not at all improved, though she was still prone to bouts of surprising clarity. For the most part, though, Claudia was the shell of the person her family once knew.

Her last day was the worst for both the Sheriff and Stiles. The events of which were burned into their memories forever.

»»-------------¤-------------««

The victim of the car crash was a clairvoyant, but Sheriff Stilinski didn’t know that. Or rather, he chose not to attempt to understand it.

He received the call at the end of his shift. A massive car pile-up. Officers were already on their way. He didn’t need to take the call. He was supposed to go to the hospital and see his wife, but he chose to go to the scene of the accident anyway.

When he arrived, he split up the task of searching for survivors among the wreckage with the other officers there, and he eventually came across a young woman who was pinned under an overturned car. He knew just from observing her condition that she wasn’t going to survive.

Out of a sense of duty, he took hold of one of her hands and explained to her that help was on the way, and that she should remain calm. The girl said nothing at first, and then she surprised him by suddenly tightening her hold around his hand in a vice-like grip, her eyes growing wide and flickering with emotion.

“If you want to be with her...go. _Now_ ,” she said, blood dribbling from her mouth with a light popping sound.

 _I forgive you_ , her expression seemed to say, _it’s okay to leave me here_. A chill shot down his spine then, and the sheriff _knew_. It was even one of those strange things where he somehow sensed that the girl knew that he knew. And yet, for excuses that would later seem foolish and cowardly—hindsight being what it was—he just couldn’t bring himself to _let her hand go_.

She was gone well before the paramedics arrived. Still, he waited with her until she was officially declared deceased. He didn’t remember when he finally managed to get up; his whole body felt numb on his way to his patrol car, and he barely registered making the drive to the hospital.

He knew even before parking his car in the lot that his wife was already gone. Seeing his eight-year-old son in the waiting room, sobbing, head in his hands and inconsolable, he knew that he had failed the ones that were supposed to matter to him the most.

Stiles emotionally shut himself off from his father for a long time after that, and the sheriff couldn’t blame him for doing so. He later turned to alcohol and began to live under the illusion that he was doing so in penance.

»»-------------¤-------------««

In her last moments of life, Claudia was hit with an extreme bout of clarity, her son being the key. It was the perfect cocktail, blended together by chance. Stiles’ innate abilities were heightened by the despair that surged within him, and his hand clasped around the soulmark on his mother’s wrist as he cried and begged for her not to leave him.

It was true, that memories of a life would flash before a dying soul. Lacking his mother’s awareness and control over his abilities, Stiles just so happened to experience this phenomenon at the same time as his mother. Through this connection, however, Claudia’s consciousness, which was locked within herself, became able to meet her son halfway. Her eyes hardened with focus and she found the unexplainable strength to move her other arm and clasp her free hand over that of her son’s.

“ _Hush_ , Mitchi...” she rasped, commanding her son’s attention as he expressed his confusion over what he was seeing. “It’s not your fault…none of this is your fault...”

The words made little sense to Stiles without the full context. He could see bits and fragments of his mother’s past; her life as a Campbell, his parents meeting for the first time and falling in love, even some scary visions of the Yellow-Eyed Man. It was like looking at pieces of a shattered mirror without quite knowing how they could all possibly fit together to make one shape.

There was so much more Claudia knew she needed to say, so many more words of comfort she wanted to offer her son, but there was no time left. She knew her son would be confused, but she also knew her son was bright, and would one day succeed in making sense of it. The best she could hope for was that Stiles would find the words she’d committed to paper before things had gotten worse. She prayed that she had left him enough.

Her heart broke as she felt her son bring her hand up to his face, pressing his cheek against it as he cried out to her. “ _NO_ , MOMMY! DON’T GO! I LOVE YOU! DON’T LEAVE ME, MOMMY, PLEASE! _PLEASE_ …!”

His voice fading, just like the rest of the world around her, her vision enveloping in a bright white light. Her son’s wails grew further and further away from her, and eventually she felt a sensation of freeing detachment.

Regret and sorrow soon gave way to peace when she felt the warmth from a comforting hand placed upon her shoulder. She turned to face the sharpest blue eyes that she had ever seen.

She felt more than saw the hand that stretched out to her. Claudia instinctively reached for it, took hold, and walked alongside this mysterious guide, onward to her new state of existence in this next life.

For weeks after his mother’s death, Stiles would be plagued with panic attacks and nightmares, some of it inspired by his subconscious attempts to make sense of what it was he had seen when he had touched his mother’s wrist; what his mother’s last words could have possibly meant. Always coming to the same morbid conclusion; that whatever it was that caused his mother’s death, he had played some sort of role in it. He’d always had the sense that his mother’s last words were meant to spare him from some awful truth, and Stiles was desperate to find it.

He found the journal, one day, wedged between a few of his books, ones that he hadn’t thought to read in a long time and wondered how long it had been there. After pulling it out, he recognized it; remembered it was the same one his mother had started writing in obsessively as she drew closer to her final days.

When he dared to open it, he was overwhelmed by the sight of his mother’s familiar handwriting; his eyes brimmed with tears upon seeing her name for him written out neatly on the first page, in her elegant script.

“ _I am so sorry, honey, that I will not be there to teach you everything you need to know in person,”_ his mother had written somewhere in the first page of her introduction. _“But please read these words carefully, baby, and try your best to understand what it is I am trying to tell you.”_

There were pages upon pages of abridged family history, lessons detailing methods for concepts he didn’t quite understand, and descriptions of _things_ that tugged at memories that seemed lodged strangely in the furthest reaches of his mind. Brief flickers of dark jackets, a cork board with different colors of string, and various images of creatures that weren’t supposed to exist.

He’d only read through the whole book once, the year his mother passed on, and he wouldn’t revisit her words to read them in excruciating detail until he was a few years older. His mind was too full at the time, and his heart too broken. He was still young, anyway. Enough that it was no surprise he failed to grasp the actual weight of the information he’d been given. He lacked the capacity at the time to appreciate certain warnings. Instead, all he focused on the words _“know that I love you,”_ and the dull, written echo of what his mother had said on her dying breath.

“ _No matter what happens, promise me that you will always remember these words, and hang onto them tightly. None of this is your fault. Do you understand me? None of it.”_

Though he wanted to, he could never fully believe her. No matter how many different ways she’d said it.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“Did you hear about the Sheriff?” Laura asked Derek one day in passing, over breakfast.

Derek simply looked up from pouring his cereal into a bowl and raised one of his eyebrows. “No…?” he said, giving her a slight shrug before resuming his pouring. “What about him?”

“His wife just died.”

Derek stopped what he was doing and his posture becoming rigid in shock, eyes growing wide. “What?”

“Yeah. Apparently it just happened yesterday,” said Laura. “Everybody’s been talking about it. One of my friends told me over the phone, last night.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Derek frowned down at his cereal bowl for a moment before looking back up at his sister. “When did they say the funeral was?”

“I don’t know. I think they said it was this weekend or something, but I’m not sure,” Laura said contemplatively. “Why are you asking?”

Derek shrugged again. “No reason,” he lied.

He clearly didn’t do a great job of it, however, because his sister didn’t look like she was entirely buying it. “Uh huh.”

He fidgeted a bit under her gaze as he reached for the carton of milk at the center of the table and poured it in his bowl before quickly eating all of its contents. He gathered his book bag from where he had set it by his chair and made his way for the front door.

“I’ll see you sometime after school, Laura.”

He missed the curious tilt of his sister’s head as he rushed out of their house.

“Sure thing, Der.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

There were moments, however brief, where Derek held some serious doubts about his relationship with Kate Argent. At some point he’d caved and told Hayden and Travis about it, because he felt that he needed their advice, and he swore them to secrecy. He would have told Keith about it too, but he’d recently enlisted in the military and had been shipped somewhere overseas. Needless to say, while his friends were equally surprised, they were not both just as supportive. Travis had always been the most straight-laced of the group, and his firm stance against Derek’s relationship with Kate placed the two of them at odds with each other for a little while. This consequently somewhat strained Derek’s relationship with Hayden, who was trying his best to keep the peace between them.

Thankfully they had, eventually, although perhaps somewhat begrudgingly, come to some sort of silent compromise. Derek would approach his friend with his relationship problems only if Hayden wasn’t available to provide counsel, and Travis generally forced himself to turn a blind eye to the whole ordeal, despite his reservations. Which was why Derek’s decision to talk to Travis about his most recent musings about the whole thing to be quite unusual, especially since Hayden had been right there with them when he had asked.

Derek had been sure, at first, about the love. Of course, that had been before he’d run into the sheriff’s kid by chance several months ago, over the Christmas holiday, shopping with his father. The boy’s expression had been somber. Derek remembered feeling somehow drawn to them, attracted by a familiar scent, one that had been mingled with a twinge of sadness. He remembered the way the kid’s face lit up when he recognized Derek and started babbling about how he always knew the older boy would keep his promise about seeing each other again, and he’d been distracted by the memory ever since. So much to the point that even Kate was starting to notice how distant he was becoming when they were together, and though things were souring more rapidly between them, Derek found that he didn’t care as much as he might have in the past.

“You’re asking _me_ if I think you should break up with our school’s guidance counselor,” Travis asked flatly, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Derek said with a nod and a shrug of the shoulder.

“ _Me_ ,” Travis emphasized again, eyes flitting briefly to where Hayden was lounging on the longer of the three couches in the Becker’s living room, who was looking between them like he was watching a game of ping pong while casually sipping water out of a plastic bottle. “Dude. Seriously?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to know your opinion,” said Derek.

Travis frowned. “I can’t help but think there’s a trick question in here, somewhere.”

Derek shook his head. “No. No trick question.”

“Then I don’t get it,” said Travis. “You already know what my opinion is, man. So I guess the real question is, why exactly are you asking me this?”

Hayden chose that moment to interject. “You want him to list out his usual reasons why he thinks you should stop. Isn’t that right, Derek?”

He said this while nibbling absently at the neck of the plastic bottle he was drinking out of, expression contemplative. When Derek nodded in response, Travis only appeared to become even more confused about the whole conversation.

“Okay... _what?_ ” he asked. “Seriously, you guys always seem to have some kind of weird code-lingo going on between you two. What am I missing here?”

“He’s building a mental pros-cons list, Trav,” Hayden said, shrugging his shoulder much in the way Derek had a few moments earlier. “He wants you to rattle off the usual things so he can pit them against whatever he happens to be thinking right now.”

“Oh,” Travis said, blinking, still kind of thrown. “Okay...uh...”

“I saw the sheriff with his kid, this past Christmas break,” Derek said suddenly, and this time, even Hayden seemed surprised by the abrupt change in subject. “Laura told me this morning that his wife just died.”

“So...” Travis started.

“I’ve been thinking about them a lot, since I ran into them at the mall,” said Derek. “A lot more than I’ve ever thought about anyone. Even Kate.”

Travis cringed as he always did with the way Derek always seemed to throw around the woman’s first name, mostly because she was older and technically in an authority position over them. “Okay?” he said. “So what does this have to do with you thinking about breaking up with—”

“When Laura told me about the sheriff’s wife, I couldn’t help feeling like I failed them somehow,” said Derek. “In fact, ever since his kid reminded me about that promise I’d made about seeing him again after that trip we took to his elementary school—”

“Wait, so you got to know the sheriff and his family real well from that?” Hayden asked.

“No, not really, I just...it’s kind of hard to explain,” Derek said, crinkling his nose in annoyance at himself. “It’s like...ever since the holidays, I’ve been getting this nagging feeling about them.”

“What do you mean?” asked Hayden.

“Well, if we’re talking specifically...I felt like I was supposed to have been watching over the kid,” said Derek.

“Like how? By babysitting him or something?” asked Travis. “Is this some kind of weird werewolf instinct thing we’re not necessarily supposed to get?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said, shaking his head. “I mean, maybe…? But this thing with Kate...”

“Distracted you from doing...whatever it is you think you were supposed to be doing,” Hayden finished for him. “So something that wouldn’t normally have bothered you before...it bothers you now.”

“Yeah,” Derek said, nodding. “Exactly.”

“This _makes sense_ to you?” Travis asked Hayden incredulously.

The other boy flashed him a lazy grin. “ _Code-lingo_ , remember? Your words.”

He laughed when Travis grumbled. “Cute, Beck. Real cute.”

“The ladies sure seem to agree with you,” Hayden said, chuckling when Travis let out a groan before returning his attention to Derek, humor subdued. “You know, it sounds kind of like you think you’re supposed to focus on one thing or the other and not both, or something.”

“Hit the nail right on the head, Beck,” Derek said with a slight grimace.

“Well, I mean, the way you’re talking about it...sounds like you already know what you're supposed to do then, yeah?” said Hayden.

Derek paused for a moment, then nodded. “I guess so. Yeah.”

“What’s so special about this kid, anyhow?” asked Travis. “I mean, not that I’m trying to discourage you from breaking up with the old enough to be your aunt creeptastic cougar or anything...it just seems weird, you know?”

Derek frowned. “I hear you, Trav, I mean...it’s like my wolf is telling me to protect the kid. Like he’s pack...”

Travis raised an eyebrow. “Pack. With some little kid you barely know?”

Derek shrugged his shoulders. “Listen, if I could transfer the sense that I get when I’m around the kid to you so that maybe you could better understand it, I would.”

Travis rubbed at the back of his neck. “Man...you are one complicated dude sometimes, alright?”

“You talk to your mom about this?” Hayden asked.

“No,” Derek admitted.

Hayden half-smiled. “Maybe you should, man.”

Derek hung his head and nodded as he let out a soft sigh. “Yeah…I know. You’re right...and I will.”

“Yeah?” asked Hayden.

“Yeah,” Derek said, nodding again and lips curled in a slight grimace. “Soon as I figure out how to talk about this without mentioning Kate.”

“Can’t you just omit her from whatever explanation you give?” asked Travis.

Derek shook his head. “I mean, sure, but if she starts asking questions...”

“Right...y’all can hear lies by listening to heartbeats and whatnot,” said Travis.

“And Mrs. Hale is quite perceptive,” Hayden supplied. “So she’ll probably ask everything you’re trying to avoid.”

Derek’s expression grew pinched. “Bingo...”

Travis sighed. “Whelp…!” he said as he got up from his seat. “Guess that means there’s only one thing you _can_ do right now.”

“Which is?” asked Derek.

“Take things one step at a time,” said Travis. “Breaking up with Creepzilla would be a good place to start. Then you can...I don’t know. Talk to your mom and figure out why your wolf is trying to make this kid pack or whatever.”

“Where are you going?” Hayden asked, raising an eyebrow in question as he watched Travis start to make his way into the Becker’s kitchen.

“Looking for ibuprofen; I’ve got a headache,” said Travis. “Y’all keep it in here, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Cabinets right above the sink.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure,” Hayden said before turning his questioning brow on Derek. “And where are _you_ going?”

“Taking Trav’s advice,” Derek said as he pulled out his phone. “Though we both know he thinks I should have taken it before I even got involved with Kate in the first place.”

“Damn straight!” Travis called from the kitchen.

“Mm...good luck, man,” said Hayden.

Derek nodded as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way to the front door. “I’ll take it. Catch you guys later.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

To say that Kate didn’t take the news well was an incredible understatement. She was livid.

“You _will_ regret this!” she shrieked as Derek walked away from her.

Derek frowned slightly and tossed over his shoulder. “You know...? I don’t think I will.”

“Oh, but you will…!” Kate growled under her breath as Derek got into his car and drove off. “I _guarantee_ it.”

By breaking up with her, Derek prevented Kate from executing her original plan of easing into the Hale household and the joy of playing with her food, so to speak. This meant she now needed to rely on her contingency plan. The first step being a Friday night happy hour with one Adrian R. Harris.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Between his parents, Talia Hale definitely struck a greater chord of fear in Derek than his father ever could, though his father was a force to be reckoned with as well. Which was why Derek was hiding in the forested area just outside Beacon Hills Cemetery, watching as Claudia Stilinski was being laid to rest by her family and loved ones, without having first consulted with his mother to ask whether such lurking was even appropriate.

He unconsciously clenched his fists at his sides; his heart twisting in pain as he smelled the despair in the air. It broke when he heard Stiles crying.

Each time someone gave their condolences, said they were sorry, Derek could hear the pounding in the boy’s ribcage get louder. First, with overwhelming sadness. Then, a growing irritation.

Finally, as the sheriff began wrapping up his eulogy, it appeared that Stiles couldn’t bear it any longer. Derek tensed and held his breath when he heard the boy suddenly break out into a run.

His father shouted after him, but the boy paid him no mind. “Stiles…! _Stiles!_ ”

People began to chase after him, but Stiles already had a pretty good head start on them. The minute Derek heard the youth’s feet crunch on some twigs and leaves at the edge of the forest, he charged in the direction of the sound.

It was his werewolf strength that prevented him from getting bowled over when Stiles ran into him; Derek had practically been prepared for the collision, arms outstretched and ready to catch the younger boy. Stiles had let out a gasp upon impact, and when he looked up, his eyes were rounded wide with surprise. Once that wore off, however, Stiles’ eyes grew glassy just before he buried his face into Derek’s stomach and began to sob, his whole body trembling. On instinct, Derek wrapped one arm tightly around the boy while using his other hand to card through Stiles’ hair comfortingly, as his mother had so often done for him and Laura when they were younger, if they were crying.

“Shhh...” Derek soothed, his eyes half-closed as he looked down at the boy’s still shaking frame.

The words Stiles rambled out were mostly incoherent, partially because they were muffled against the fabric of Derek’s shirt, but also because he was having difficulty speaking clearly through his sobbing and hiccuping. Derek was able to make out certain phrases, however, like “I miss her so much,” and “it’s not fair.”

“I know...” Derek murmured softly. “You’re right...it’s not.”

He looked up when he heard the sheriff’s voice call out for his son not too far away from where they were. “ _Stiles?!_ ”

Derek looked back down at Stiles and slowly pulled away from the kid before squatting down at his eye-level. He kept Stiles in place by his shoulders, even though he was tempted to allow the kid to plaster himself back against Derek.

“Your dad’s looking for you,” Derek said softly.

“I...I don’t w-want to go h-home...” said Stiles.

Derek bit his lip. “I...I know, kid, but...your dad’s worried. Can’t you hear him?”

“ _Stiles?!_ Where are you, son?”

Stiles nodded, but he kept his eyes downcast. “B-but...Mommy won’t be there...”

Derek tilted his head. “Your dad will be, though...and you can't leave him alone, right?  Can I take you to him?”

Eyes still glued on his feet, Stiles nodded. “Y-yeah...I g-guess...”

“Okay. Come on, buddy. Here we go,” Derek said as he lifted Stiles up in his arms.

He could feel his wolf take pride upon sensing the boy’s trust as he gripped Derek’s shirt tightly and buried his face against the werewolf’s neck. It didn’t take Derek long to find the frantic sheriff and some of his search party.

“Oh! Stiles!” the sheriff said when he saw them.

Derek allowed the older man to take Stiles from his arms when he approached. The sheriff nodded at Derek gratefully after the boy transferred hands.

He was glad when the sheriff didn’t ask why it was he just happened to be hanging around in the forest. Perhaps he was too distracted with feeling as if he’d almost lost his boy. Unsure of what else to say, Derek slowly began to take a few subtle steps back, sensing that his duty here was done.

For a moment, the sheriff could think of nothing else other than to murmur soothing words to the distraught boy in his arms.  By the time the sheriff thought to say something, he was surprised to find that when he looked up, Derek was long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long!! Has it really been over a week since the last update? My goodness! I had this chapter mostly written when I posted the last one, but things kept evolving which caused me to take up more time on this than I'd originally intended. Hopefully the next chapter won't give so many roadblocks. Until next time!


	8. Fire and Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek loses a great deal of what's precious to him. Stiles revisits the contents of his mother’s journal and ignores the clear warning that’s stated there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, **a HUGE THANK YOU to every single reader leaving me a message of support**. You have no idea how much that encouraged me to persevere, and I am so very sorry that you all had to experience what my other loyal readers have experienced on all my other pseudonyms, at some point or another. Rest assured, I am not giving up on the fic.
> 
> I about wanted to pull my hair out fixing dates and rearranging things. I even had to edit author’s notes, some dialogue, and a few descriptions in previous chapters. (Some of them were already incorrectly updated to begin with because I had changed numbers and not accompanying descriptive content. Sorry if that sounded confusing…) 
> 
> ANYWAY. Long story short, a ton of shit should be fixed now. **A HUGE SPECIAL THANKS TO NAWennerholm1973**. Literal proof that I have some of  the best readers out there. Thank you for taking the time to be a one-time unofficial beta by going through everything and pointing out errors that needed correction. Thanks to their help, several adjustments have been made to previous chapters and the author’s notes in those chapters. Honestly aside from ages there really isn’t a whole lot that has really impacted what is actually going to happen in the story, so there isn’t necessarily a reason to go back.
> 
> Sorry this chapter was so delayed by the way. A lot of bad things have been happening to me irl (particularly in my own relationship department), so I was partially going through writer’s block, and partially dealing with life. My apologies. Thanks to everyone who is sticking with me, and I hope that at least the length of the chapter makes up for the wait.
> 
> Just FYI—a lot of things from the _Supernatural_ side are not going to be canon at all. That includes character powers and timelines. Also, new reader poll at the end; please leave a comment with your vote if you can. Poll closes once next chapter goes up.

_Unknown Date_

The Yellow-Eyed Demon bowed before his master. A true veteran of the underworld, he neither shook nor flinched when a hand shot out and gripped a bar of the cage that effectively contained his superior. A naïve servant might have scoffed, but the wise knew better than to believe that his leader was completely powerless from his confines. The Cage was merely a room without an obvious door, but there was surely a way out. In the meantime, however, there were enough windows for which his superior had to work with.

Lucifer’s eyes glowed with ferocity, and his lips curled into a grin. “ _Azazel_ …!” he hissed.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Azazel replied without missing a beat. “Everything is going according to plan.”

“Excellent!” Lucifer bellowed, his neck cracking as he angled it. “Have you brought me a soul?”

Azazel lifted his head and allowed himself a grin. He pushed forth the trembling figure at his side.

“I have indeed, master. One that should please you.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt that Judas is the most entertaining; his resilience is the only reason why I keep him around! But I do so like fresh, new toys...” Lucifer said menacingly. “A shame they always break, for they are so very fragile. Now…let’s have a look. _Bring it closer_.”

Azazel did as commanded and shoved the spirit forward, who shook like a leaf, fear temporarily overtaking the pain it had endured since its arrival. Lucifer reached a hand forward, allowing himself to read the tortured being.

“ _Ah_ …!” Lucifer said with a toothy smile. “You were a brave one, weren’t you? _Tell me_...do you know what it is that you are feeling?”

When the figure didn’t answer, Azazel embedded his fingers in the being’s back, enough to pierce and inflict pain, but otherwise just a graze by Hell’s standards. He knew better than to ruin his master’s gifts.

“Our leader’s _asked you a question…_!” Azazel hissed. “And I suggest you answer it!”

The thing wailed. “ _Ohhhh_ …! I don’t know…! I _DON’T KNOW…_!”

Lucifer cackled. “Oh! _Foolish creature…_! That dark pit in your stomach?! The overwhelming sense of, what most humans would describe as _dread_?! Above, you were a warrior who spent his time cutting up flesh and showing no mercy; actions worthy of being one of my disciples. You died a hero’s death and showed no remorse when they filled your veins with poison, sending you to me. _However_...many have arrived at my door with the same false bravado of which you left your world.”

When the miserable soul wept, Lucifer laughed. Azazel hid his grin. There was none more wicked than his master, and he so enjoyed the spectacle when given the privilege.

“Oh, _pitiful creature_...” Lucifer mockingly cooed. “Those of you whose eyes are closed before entering here surely have them opened once they arrive.”

A serial killer with no capacity for feelings such as remorse, had no idea what was in store for them once their souls were damned to Hell. Only the privileged ones were given a personal lesson by Hell’s leader himself.

“You see? Things that didn’t exist for you, whilst you were _human_ , well. You learn them _here_ ,” Lucifer said with a smile. “What you are feeling right now is the feeling your sacrifices to me felt, just before their last moments. We call it... _fear_.”

The figure wriggled and gasped. It yelped when Azazel dug his claws in deeper. Lucifer’s grin grew wider.

“You have, indeed, earned partial mercy with your numerous sacrifices.”

“Only partial, milord?” Azazel dared to jest; for he was certain his master was in a good mood.

It was a fair play. Lucifer’s eyes glinted with approval.

“Why _yes_ , only partial,” Lucifer said. “His sacrifices weren’t all perfect...he let some of the souls escape to Heaven, of all places...”

“Well, that won’t do at all, will it?” said Azazel.

“No,” Lucifer agreed. “It will not.”

Azazel’s lips quirked. “Shall I send him in, Your Majesty?”

Lucifer finally took a step back. “ _Yes_.”

Azazel nodded. “Then thy will be done.”

Anything could enter the cage; it was just built with the purpose of nothing leaving it. With his abilities, Azazel thrust the quivering figure forward as it shrieked.

“No...no…NOOOOO!”

“Wait there, Azazel,” Lucifer said, paying the wailing creature no mind. “I won’t be long.”

“But of course.”

Azazel waited patiently as he listened to his master make quick work of drawing the essence from the unfortunate soul. When Lucifer returned to the bars closest to Azazel, his eyes were a fierce glowing red, a sign of some strength gained from his feast.

“ _So_ ,” Lucifer said, tongue flicking out absently to clean up the stray flecks of blood at the corner of his mouth. His next words dripped with great sarcasm. “How fairs God’s green earth?”

Neither entity took notice of another, lurking quietly in the shadows. Tucked away at a safe distance, it listened to their conversation.  In fact, unbeknownst to them, it had been listening to them for a long time.  Enough to form a plan of its own.

Azazel’s eyes gleamed as he responded. “It is still young and has yet to open its eyes to the truth, but I _assure you_. Chaos is coming.”

The Prince of Darkness threw his head back and roared. “AND LET IT RAIN WITH BLOOD!”

»»-------------¤-------------««

_Late December, 2004_

It took a long time for things to somewhat settle in the Stilinski household. When they finally did, the sheriff slowly began to develop a habit of taking on late nights at work, once the nightmares that used to overtake his son’s sleeping hours occurred less often. The arrangement was mutually agreed upon in silence—there were days where Stiles couldn’t bear to look at his father, and there were times where his father couldn’t always handle the overwhelming guilt he carried for not having been there for his son and wife.

Of course, the nightmares never completely went away, though the panic attacks gradually became less frequent. There were days when Stiles enjoyed the quiet, the stillness of the house, but there were other days where Stiles found that the silence was too much. It was on the first of these days, where Stiles began the search for some sort of crutch to rely on.

Which was what finally drew out the courage for him to confront the journal his mother left behind; this time with a clearer frame of mind. He started at his desk and took a breath before lifting the front cover and sifting gingerly through the pages as he pored over his mother’s elegant script. It was a wonder, how she had been able to write so much before her death, but Stiles recognized it for the blessing that it was; to have so much of her still.

Her writings contained a great deal of information, from a brief history lesson of the Campbell bloodline, their background as hunters, his aunt’s failure to escape the fate of her lineage by marrying his uncle, as well as his mother’s own failure to do the same by marrying his father and settling in Beacon Hills.

Stiles flipped through the pages, stopping every once in a while on certain sections. One section in particular caught his eye, the part discussing soulmarks and the abilities he supposedly shared with his mother.  

> _I thought, that by walking away from your grandparents and everything they stood for, that it would be enough. I clearly learned nothing from watching your Aunt Mary and Uncle John. I was young, and I believed, so fervently, that things could be different. So many years had passed since I left the ghosts of my childhood behind that I thought maybe it could be safe. I became complacent, and I let my guard down too far. After years of avoiding the pull, I finally gave in and sought out your father. I moved to Beacon Hills._
> 
> _The “pull,” Mitchi, is what describes that feeling—and you’ll know it, when it happens to you—where you feel that you are being drawn to a specific place. A specific person. Your “soulmate.” You will likely hear this word more often as you grow up. Not everyone has a soulmate, but you do. You have a soulmark on your back, just like I have one on my wrist. The location of the soulmark is different for each person who has one, but for those who have one, it means that there is someone out there who has one that matches. Your father has the one that matches mine on his right arm._
> 
> _Most people do not know who their soulmate is until they meet them, and not everyone knows where to find them. It is true that not everyone meets their soulmate in their lifetime, and sometimes people marry someone who isn’t their soulmate. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this. Should you meet and fall in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate, know that I would support you fully, and I know your father will as well._
> 
> _In fact...and this is not easy for me to say...I think it would be for the best if you did._
> 
> _You may not be a Campbell in name, but the fact of the matter is, you are a Campbell by blood. You may not realize this now, but you share the same abilities as your Aunt Mary had, and as I do. The extent of your abilities may even reach further than ours ever have, if what I have seen in you is accurate._
> 
> _By “seeing,” I am referring to one of the abilities of which you are capable. This I can teach you with confidence. As for the others, I can only tell you stories that have been passed down to me. It is up to you whether any of them are worth exploring._
> 
> _I mentioned how difficult it can be to find one’s soulmate. You would have to be in the right place at the right time, and even then, most people would need to confirm it by checking the other individual’s mark. That obstacle in us is eliminated—we are able to do something akin to second sight._
> 
> _We are part of a class of individuals known as empaths. We have the ability to “read” things by touch. For example, if you were to touch the ring your father or I wear on our hands, you should be able to see something similar to a movie, only what you see is real. Sometimes you see the future; other times you see what’s passed. The more you practice, the more you will be able to control your abilities and be able to quickly find what it is you are looking for while ignoring all the rest. It’s a lot like leafing through a book._
> 
> _As long as the object holds meaning, some kind of sentimental value to its owner, you can learn a lot about someone or something from coming into contact with it. How much you are able to learn typically depends on how long you keep hold._
> 
> _Which means we have the ability to see things like who our soulmates are, simply by touching our own soulmark and searching for them. It is how I found your father; however, I need you to promise me something, Mitchi._
> 
> _I need you to promise to never read your soulmark. Under any circumstances._

His mother’s warning was followed by a reminder of a day Stiles vaguely remembered. The day his mother had touched his backside and he recalled having felt a stinging sensation. He had called his father at work that day, worried and unsure what to do to comfort her. According to what his mother had written, Stiles had apparently felt her pain because they were connected. That memory led to another; what he had seen when he’d touched his mother’s wrist in her last moments at the hospital. The words _it’s not your fault_ resounding just as loudly as the voices saying _it is_.

An empath, his mother explained, typically needed intent to glean information in addition to contact with a person or object. In Stiles’ case, however, all he needed was that first touch. Apparently he had what his mother called a strong “spark.” He had a level of power, his mother explained, that came with great responsibility.

A burden that would only become heavier if he ignored his mother’s warning. Of course, it wasn’t Claudia’s fault that her son was the curious sort. He was the type where, if told not to do something, it tempted him all the more. And unfortunately, as would be his folly, over and over again, his curiosity would prove to be too great for him to resist.

There were so many more pages that Stiles had yet to explore in depth, but he was already pretty overwhelmed with what his mother had seemed to consider as the basics. He didn’t completely understand everything he had written, but he suspected that his mother anticipated her words would make more sense with time.

So he decided that, after placing his mother’s journal away for the time being, Stiles settled onto his bed, letting his legs dangle off the side as he slowly reached his hand behind his neck. He let his fingertips slide beneath the collar of his shirt, and when he thought he was close enough to part of his soulmark, Stiles stretched his fingers out a bit further and then firmly pressed.

What he was immediately greeted with was an onslaught of horrifying images that he wasn’t expecting. Stiles felt as if the wind was pushed right out of him, and his first time intentionally trying to read something was like an out-of-body experience.

The visions ran by so fast, and without having mastered some control over his reading, it was like he was driving a race car without having first learned what to do behind the wheel. It was disastrous.

The first thing that Stiles experienced was red. Everything around him seemed drenched in different shades of red, and then came the screaming. Stiles felt dizzy and disoriented as he stumbled about the world in his vision; he was blind with terror and he felt as if his body were surrounded by heat. The screaming continued and Stiles clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, willing for everything to go away; he wanted to see something else. Anything else.

Then he did. When he felt the world still and the air around him cool, Stiles opened his eyes and gasped, because what he saw next was no better than the first thing. This time he was surrounded by darkness and his hands and forearms were very, very wet. And when he looked down, he realized it was because he was holding something—no, some _one_ —in his arms. Or rather, one arm was holding whoever it was and the other was pierced clean through their chest, creating a gaping hole where their heart should have been. All he could focus on was the sheer amount of blood.

Completely frozen with shock, Stiles stared at his arm in horror, not realizing the scream he heard resounding in his ears was none other than his own. He didn’t realize that he’d also been screaming outside of his visions until he felt someone shake him out of his trance and soon he was looking into the worried eyes of his father.

“Stiles! What is it?! What is it, son?”

“I...I can’t…!” Stiles tried between breaths; he was hyperventilating.

Having become sensitive to all forms of contact as a result of his little experiment, Stiles was immediately awash with guilt when he felt the emotions coming off his father in waves. Stiles didn’t know how he could explain it, because it wasn’t as if he could hear his father’s actual thoughts, but he somehow knew with certainty that his father was frightened by his son’s current state. That the whole thing was reminding him of his late wife, and now he was worried that Stiles was starting to go through the same.

In that moment, Stiles knew with equal certainty that the best thing to do for his father was to not tell him the truth about what had just happened. Stiles closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. Once he’d settled down enough, Stiles eventually reopened them and looked straight at his father. He took a couple shallow breaths and then tried again.

“I’m sorry, Dad...” he whispered.

“What is it?” his father asked. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just...I had a nightmare,” Stiles said, going for a half-truth, knowing that his father would have a more difficult time seeing through that than a blatant lie. “It was about Mom, and I...”

Stiles trailed off, unable to continue, but he knew that he had said enough. His father crumpled immediately and embraced Stiles in his arms. Stiles leaned in and let his father run his fingers soothingly through his damp hair.

“It’s all right, Stiles...” his father said softly. Stiles didn’t need to see to know that his father’s eyes were brimming with tears. “I miss her too, kiddo. It’s all right...”

Several hours later, Stiles was left alone in his room again. For a long time, Stiles laid there in his bed, staring up at the ceiling listlessly. It would be some time before he tried to crack open his mother’s journal again to learn more. For the time being, he’d had enough. After all, he’d basically just learned that he could see things just by coming into contact with people or objects, and Stiles was pretty sure that what he’d seen when he touched his mark was himself having killed his own soulmate.

It was the same certainty Stiles possessed when it came to his mother’s death. He couldn’t explain why he’d always felt that his mother’s death was his fault; only that he knew that it somehow _was_. In that same vein, Stiles knew that although what he’d just seen was awful, that didn’t make it any less true. He refused to be responsible for another individual’s death.

So, while his mother’s warning hadn’t seemed serious before, it most was extremely clear to him now. In that moment, Stiles vowed that he would not make the mistake of seeking out his soulmate, knowing it was for the best. Even if a small part of him broke at the mere thought of it.

»»-------------¤-------------««

_January, 2005_

The first opportunity Keith Becker was able to obtain leave from his military service was around the time the Hales were gathering for their full moon festivities. He had meant to come home in time for at least the holidays, but hadn’t been able to attain the approval. When he finally touched down at the airport, and as soon as he came into sight, he was immediately tackled into a crushing hug by his younger brother while Derek and Travis hung back until they were invited in for a group embrace.

With permission from his parents, Derek invited the Becker brothers and Travis over to the Hale Mansion to join in on the family gathering. At some point through their years of friendship, Derek had eased his parents into accepting his closest friends as essentially honorary members of the pack. His father had been surprisingly accommodating, but he figured that was probably because he was the human half of the Hale clan. His mother, on the other hand, had taken some convincing. To Derek’s surprise, it had been his father, Leopold Hale, who had finally convinced his mother that allowing their son’s friends into the fold was a step in the right direction in strengthening human-werewolf relations.

Talia was a very diligent mother, and the werewolves in the family were trained well enough that they wouldn’t cause any trouble during the full moon. She had made sure of this particularly for the benefit of those from her husband’s side of the family who were pure human. Her concern for introducing outsider humans into her family wasn’t so much out of worry that one of the werewolves would cause them physical harm, but more because she wanted to prevent their secret from being leaked. Still, she trusted her husband’s judgment, for despite lacking werewolf abilities, the man had proven time and time again that he could read his own kind with sureness and accuracy. So while she hadn’t been thrilled about allowing Derek’s friends to join them during full moon festivities, she relented only because of her husband’s confidence that the boys would cause their family no harm.

It took the humans of the Hale family, particularly those who had been too young to remember him well, a bit longer to warm up to Keith’s return. The young weres, however, recognized him by scent almost immediately and embraced him happily as he entered the home.

Talia gave a small nod of approval when Keith caught her gaze. “You’ve grown, child.”

Keith laughed softly in response. “It’s good to see everyone again too, Mrs. Hale.”

“Please,” the Alpha said with a kind smile. “You may address me as Talia.”

Keith rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “That might take a bit of getting used to, Mrs. Hale...”

Talia’s eyes crinkled in amusement at the corners. “There’s plenty of time for that. You’re more than old enough now.”

Her ears perked up then, catching the tail end of the conversation her son was having with the younger Becker.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you, man? Cheer you on?” she heard Hayden ask.

Derek shook his head and clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, flashing him a smile. “Nah, man. You hang out here with your brother. I know you’ve been wanting to catch up with him. Besides, I’ll have Carmichael with me on the court. I’ll be fine.”

Hayden looked a bit put-out. “We could both be there.”

“Coach already knows you’re not going to be there,” Derek countered. “You come, he’ll throw you in the game.”

“He has a point,” Travis said with a shrug.

“That’s fine. I’m sure Keith would have no problems watching.”

“You sure you want to drag him away from all _that_ , though?” Travis said, pointing his thumb behind them to where Keith was entertaining the youngest of the Hale children. “You’re going to cause a lot of crying babies, man. Mrs. Hale might get cranky.”

“Just whose side are you on, anyway?” Hayden asked, eyes narrowing at Travis.

Derek laughed. “ _Relax_ , Beck! We’ll be fine! Honestly, if I could, I’d rather be in your position right now. Trust me. As soon as the game ends, I’m racing back home so I can be with my family and you guys.”

Hayden emitted a frustrated noise. “ _Fine_. But you all better win the game or I’m gon’ give you all a good hollerin’.”

“You got it, man,” Derek said with a grin as he held out a fist, bumping it against the ones extended by his two friends. “Nobody messes with The Wolf Pack.”

“Damn straight,” said Hayden.

“You boys about ready to go?” Laura asked, twirling her car keys around her index finger.

“Yeah, we’re coming,” said Derek.

“Drive them safely, Laura!” Talia called after her daughter as her son and Travis trailed close behind.

“I will, Mom! Don’t worry.”

Derek looked over his shoulder and smiled at Hayden before shutting the door behind him. “We’ll be back in a jiff, Beck.”

“Well, just don’t keep me in suspense!”

»»-------------¤-------------««

The final minutes of the game was crucial, especially since the game was tied. Derek had possession of the ball, and he dribbled it while assessing his surroundings. The echo of the ball hitting the floor and the cheers from the crowd sounded dulled and faraway to his ears.

As Derek launched down the basketball court to make his last plays, Kate Argent pulled up with her contracted mercenaries a short distance away from the Hale mansion. As she and her team crept closer to the mansion, the people inside were already distracted with their festivities. Older weres and humans were busy in the kitchen, making food and holding conversation, while several adults helped chain the young weres who were just on the cusp of having mastered control over their shift during the full moon. This night was meant to be their last test, as their success at keeping stable through the night would be celebrated as soon as everything was over.

After assessing the situation, Kate and her mercenaries carefully drew close to the Hale mansion. They took care to not cause a ruckus as they began to lay out the circle of mountain ash, as close to the mansion as they could. Meanwhile, Derek had passed the ball over to another teammate, who passed the ball along to Travis, who met Derek close to the hoop, ready to receive the ball and make an attempt to score.

What Kate hadn’t anticipated, was when one of Derek’s uncles—not Peter—had come out onto the front porch to grab a drink from one of the coolers and noticed the hunters. He was shot down after yelling at them, asking who they were and what they thought they were doing there. Keith immediately stopped in his conversation with his little brother and frowned, recognizing the familiar sound as gunfire. At the same time this was happening, Travis had thrown the ball to Derek, and with a look of great concentration, his friend jumped up and took the shot.

The inside of the Hale household was a frenzy, and a couple of the older weres bounded out of the home to see what was going on, only to get struck down by silver bullets. Trying to manage the situation before it devolved into absolute chaos, Talia’s eyes flashed red and she began barking orders. Several adults rushed back down to the basement to release the children tied there. Derek found out he had made the winning shot just as Kate and her crew lit his whole house on fire.

For a moment, Keith did nothing and just stood there, appearing almost shell-shocked. Most of the people around him were too much in a frenzy to pay him any mind, and he barely heard his younger brother’s voice or felt the frantic tugging on his arm. His mind whirled with thoughts as he heard bits of panicked screaming—shouts of words like _mountain ash_ and _silver bullets_ and _no one can get out of here_. He finally came too when his younger brother started having a coughing fit beside of him.

“ _Keith_ …!” Hayden said, hand covering his mouth and coughing between words. “Come on, snap out of it! The house is on fire!”

Instead of responding, Keith ripped off his shirt and grabbed his younger brother by the wrist, forcing the teen to follow him into the kitchen. Once there, he opened the fridge and pulled out a water pitcher and took the top off so he could put his shirt in and douse it.

“Put this over your face and keep your head _down_ ,” Keith instructed as he handed his brother the wet shirt before doing the same thing to the dishrag he found and putting it over his own face. “We have to get out. Come on.”

“ _How?!_ ” Hayden asked, voice muffled by his brother’s shirt.

Keith didn’t respond and dragged his brother down to the basement, where it was a cacophony of screams and panicked movement. Both brothers felt woozy and sluggish. Keith guided his brother to where there was a cool draft.

“This tunnel leads out through the sewers,” said Keith. “You need to move.”

“No!” Hayden protested, shaking his head. “What about you?!”

“Mom and Dad would _kill me_ if I let anything happen to you,” said Keith. “I’ll catch up, I promise. I just need to get to Talia.”

“Why?!”

“I heard one of the Hales say something about mountain ash,” said Keith. “If it’s circled around the mansion, there’s no way any of the weres can get out, but it doesn’t affect us humans. Make sure you get out of here and warn Laura and Derek. Do _not_ , under any circumstances, _come back_.”

“ _But_ …!”

“We can’t let Derek’s whole family _die_ here, Hayes! We have to give them a chance!” Keith gasped as the smoke started to draw closer to where they were underground. “ _Now_ , Hayden...! The tunnel...don’t get caught. _GO!_ ”

“Keith, _NO!_ ” Hayden shouted after his brother, who disappeared back into the smoke.

Torn, he thought of charging back in for his brother, but he understood what his brother was saying. They needed to at least try to save his best friend’s family. Tears streaming from his eyes, Hayden began stumbling down the tunnels that lead to a layout of sewers. They all knew the passageway, having played down there before with Derek when they were younger. He prayed that his brother would eventually make his way out too.

While Hayden was running for his life in the tunnels, there was still an impromptu celebration of cheers happening in the boy’s locker room at Beacon Hills. Neither Derek nor Laura realized anything was wrong until they’d made their way out of the school into the parking lot, Travis close behind them, when they finally heard the howls. Instantly, both Hale siblings made eye contact, unspoken words communicated between them.

“ _Something’s wrong.”_

Picking up on their worry, Travis looked between them. “Guys…? What is it? What's going on?”

“Get in the car, Travis,” Derek said, as he and Laura wasted no time jumping into the Camaro.

Travis immediately followed suit without much protest. In a matter of seconds, Laura had her engine started up and they pealed away from the school.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“ _The ash…!”_ Talia heard one of her siblings cry out. _“Leo went out and broke the ash! But the hunters still got to him! He’s gone!”_

Had she had the luxury, Talia would have howled. To feel the sudden emptiness of her soulbond was one thing, but to have in confirmed just the way it had only compounded the excruciating pain of heartbreak. She almost lost her resolve, when she felt a strong arm grip her. It took her moments to recognize who it was. _Keith Becker_.

“ _Talia…!_ ” Keith said, voice muffled as he tugged the both of them down.

Before he could get another word in, Talia spoke first. “My husband broke part of the ring of ash.”

“Good!” said Keith. “I’ll get you guys out…! Get as many of you all out as you can.”

“The young ones first,” Talia instructed firmly. “I will explain to the others.”

“Right, okay,” Keith said with a nod.

Just before he turned around to get to work, Talia gripped him tightly at his arm. Keith turned around to face her, eyes wide with surprise.

“Just one last thing…!” Talia shouted.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Kate and her mercenaries dispersed when they heard the sound of sirens draw near. Hayden had just reached the end of the long tunnel and hid there when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps that seemed to be running every which way.

Derek and Laura arrived to the grim sight of flashing red and blue strobe lights everywhere, and watched in horror as they saw firefighters desperately work to quell the flames. Travis was standing a couple steps behind them, eyes wide and hands over his head, stunned.

“ _Ho_ ly _shit_...” Travis breathed, unable to believe what it was he was seeing.

They all barely registered when Hayden came up behind them, an obvious wreck. “Oh _god_...I’m _so sorry…_! I didn’t have a car, and I don’t even have my cell phone on me right now…! The people here were trying to kill everyone and I didn’t know which direction to run to, and... _oh god…_!”

Travis grabbed his friend just before the other boy crumpled to the ground. “Hey... _hey_ …! Easy...”

“Keith’s still in there…!” Hayden sobbed uncontrollably. “He told me to run and warn you guys, and I couldn’t, and I fucking _freaked_ and he’s still in there…!”

Derek barely heard the words. Absently, he reached out his hands and laced his fingers with his sister’s, who gripped him tightly.

“Laur...what do we do…?” he said, quivering. “We have to do _something…_! What do we…?”

“ _Shhh_...Derek...” Laura soothed, running her thumb up and down against the backside of her brother’s hand, even as tears flowed freely down her face. “Everything’s going to be all right...we’ll figure things out.”

She gasped the moment she felt the yellow from her eyes fade out and slowly bleed a red hue. Her voice broke then.

“ _...everything’s going to be all right.”_

»»-------------¤-------------««

Stiles woke up screaming, having been plagued by dreams of fire and reliving the death of his mother. His father, out on call at the scene of the Hale fire was not nearby to comfort him.

Later, Sheriff Shane Stillinski would receive a voicemail from Melissa McCall, letting him know that Stiles had come over to their house and was sleeping in Scott’s room. When the Sheriff called back, he agreed that it would be better to not wake his son while he was resting, and that he would come pick his son up in the morning.

»»-------------¤-------------««

In the morning, all that was left was the charred remains of the once magnificent Hale mansion. Derek couldn’t remember how long they had all stood there, but at some point, the Sheriff had instructed him and Laura to go stay with one of Derek’s friends. The Hale siblings ended up going with the Carmichaels so that they could allow Hayden and his family to mourn. All that was left of Keith were his dog tags, found at the wreckage, and the shirt he’d given his brother before Hayden had gone through the tunnels.

The Hale siblings went back to where their house once stood the next morning, after an evening without sleep. They stood there in silence for a long time.

Finally, Laura spoke. “We can’t stay here.”

Derek turned to look at his sister, eyes wide and welled with tears. “What…?” he choked out.

“We’ll start over...” Laura said, voice soft, but firm.

“Wh…? Laura, we can’t just _leave_ Beacon Hills…!” Derek said, disbelieving. “Our pack—”

“Is _gone_ , Derek,” Laura said, flashing her newly acquired red eyes at her brother. “And _I’m_ the Alpha now.”

Derek cowered slightly under her gaze. “But Laura...”

“I know, Der...” Laura said with a sigh, making the red hue disappear. “I know our family has been here for centuries...but I just... _can’t_. Not after what’s happened. We need to start over...”

Derek sagged his shoulders, knowing he wasn’t going to win this fight. “So where, then, Laura…? Where are we going to go…?” he asked, defeated.

“...I don’t know,” Laura said quietly, giving her brother’s hand a light squeeze. “But we’ll figure it out.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

News of the Hale fire spread with ironic speed. The morning after, when the Sheriff picked Stiles up from the McCalls was when his son first heard about it. Shane noted that his son seemed unusually alarmed by news of the fire, and taking particular interest in Derek Hale’s well-being. After the Sheriff had confirmed that Derek was still alive and well, Stiles had relaxed visibly and asked if he could see Derek sometime.

When Shane explained to his son that Derek and his sister were planning on leaving town, and that perhaps they were already gone, Stiles surprised him by wrenching out of his grasp and practically flying out the front door before he could even act to stop him.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Saying goodbye to Travis and his family had been difficult, but not nearly as difficult as trying to say goodbye to the Beckers and Hayden. Laura had parked the Camaro a short distance from the house while she and her brother sat there, staring at the Becker’s front door.

After a long moment, Laura whispered. “Aren’t you going to go, Der?”

Derek clenched and unclenched his fists. “No, I...I don’t know.”

Laura sighed. “Derek...”

Derek turned on her with glassy eyes. “I mean, Laur...what do I even say? What _can_ I say…? Hey Beck, sorry about your brother dying in our house. Wrong place wrong time, right? Sorry for convincing you to stay there instead of coming to the game, where your brother probably would have _lived_...oh, and by the way I’m skipping town?”

Laura frowned. “Hey, come on—”

“No! _You_ come on, Laura!” Derek snapped. “You don’t get it! Keith was a _soldier!_ Hayden’s parents were celebrating the fact that he’d managed to come back home in one piece! Now they have to deal with the fact that they lost his older brother in a _house fire_...and it’s all my fault! If I had just let them come to the damn basketball game, Keith would be...!

“Derek...there’s nothing you could have done,” said Laura. “You didn’t know.”

 _Except he did know_ , Derek didn’t say; _couldn’t_ say. His family hadn’t known about his relationship with Kate Argent, and now that was a secret that Derek had to carry within himself for the rest of his living days. He had no concrete proof, but he instinctively knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Kate had been the culprit, and the thought made him absolutely sick.

His sister’s soft voice shook him out of his thoughts. “ _Go_ , Derek...” Laura said, eyes reflecting both kindness and sorrow. “Say goodbye. You might not get another chance to.

Derek sighed. He sat there for a few more moments before finally nodding and reaching for the door handle.

“Yeah...alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back.

He hesitated once reaching the front door, staring at it for several beats before finally raising a fist and rapping his knuckles against the door. He sucked in a nervous breath upon being face-to-face with Hayden.

Derek breathed. “Hey, Beck, I—”

His friend surprised him further when he opened the door further and stepped outside, soon enveloping Derek into a hug. Derek blinked back tears.

“Trav called,” said Hayden. “Said you were leaving.”

“...yeah,” said Derek.

“Why?”

Derek sighed. “Laura says we have to.”

“...this one of them werewolf things we’re just not going to understand?”

“Yeah...” Derek replied numbly, because although the answer was far more complicated than that, he didn’t see the point in diving into explanations. “Something like that.”

Hayden pulled back to look at him. “I’m gonna miss you man...you sure you have to go?”

Derek shrugged. “I’ve got no place to stay here.”

“You could stay with us.”

Derek shook his head. “You sure your parents would want that, man?”

Hayden frowned. “Look, they don’t blame you, Derek, and neither do I.”

“Well _I_ do,” Derek said sullenly, looking down at his feet.

“Look, I don’t say I get it either, but your family was _targeted_ , okay? We don’t know why, it wasn’t your fault...so don’t beat yourself up about it, okay?”

Each sentence Hayden spoke felt like another jab in Derek’s heart, and that’s when he realized his sister was right after all, they _did_ have to leave. He just had different reasons for doing so. A lifetime of penance for wrongs he knew he would never be able to correct; no punishment would ever be great enough.

“I’m so sorry...” Derek said, choking up with the words. “For Keith…for making you stay at my place...for just...for _everything_.”

“Hey, _hey_...” Hayden said, gripping either of Derek’s arms and shaking him gently. “ _Look at me_ , man. Come on.”

Derek reluctantly met his friends eyes. They were just as red and welled up with tears.

“I may have lost my brother in that fire, but you lost your _whole family_ , Derek…I can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like other than guess that it’s probably what my family is feeling times a hundred...” Hayden said, voice shaking as he spoke. “So whatever amount of ‘sorry’ it is that you’re feeling, _I’m sorry too_. Even more of it than you.”

A humorless laugh emitted past Derek’s lips. He finally let the tears flow down freely from his face.

“Are your...are your parents in?” Derek asked.

“Yeah...yeah, man, you want me to go get them?” Hayden asked.

Derek shook his head. He knew that if his parents were even remotely as forgiving as his best friend was, he would break, suffocating from the immense guilt he was already carrying.

“Nah, just...could you please let them know that I said goodbye?”

“...you sure?” Hayden asked. “It’ll be all right, you know. My parents feel the same way I do about it, honest! We all talked about it, and they haven’t said a single bad word about you and your family, Derek, I promise.”

“No, it’s all right,” Derek said, shaking his head again. “I’m sure.”

Hayden sighed. “Okay, well...you take care of yourself, alright? Don’t be a stranger now, y’hear? If you ever come back, I’ll...I mean, I can’t speak for Trav too, but I...I’ll be here, Derek.”

Derek began to take a few steps back. “...I’ve gotta go now.”

Hayden nodded. “Yeah...”

“I’m sorry...Beck,” Derek said one last time before rushing towards his sister’s Camaro.

He tried to slip back into the car before any more words could be exchanged; tried to block out all the sounds around him before entering the car. Having been his friend for a long enough time, however, Hayden managed to get the last word in. Words that would have been lost in the wind for human ears, but for a werewolf, they could be heard plain as day.

“ _Doors always open for you here, Derek. Just say the word.”_

Derek slammed the door when he got back into Laura’s car. His whole body trembling and his voice filled with sorrow and bitterness as he spoke before his sister could even get in a word.

“Come on, Laur. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

And so they did.

»»-------------¤-------------««

When Sheriff Stilinski finally found his son, it was at the charred remains of the Hale mansion. Stiles was on his knees on what was left of the burnt out front porch, bawling his eyes out.

“They’re _gone…_!” Stiles said as his father managed to scoop him up with a bit of effort, as Stiles wasn’t as small as he used to be at eleven, but he wasn’t so tall that his father couldn’t manage at the time.

“I know, son...” Shane said as he carried his son back to the patrol car. “I know.”

“ _No_ , you _don’t get it…_!” Stiles wailed, voice raspy. “I _know_ that they’re gone...”

Not understanding the difference and deciding it would be best not to argue with his son, the Sheriff merely grunted and buckled his son in before taking them both back home. Stiles entered into a feverish dream on the way back; images he’d gathered from touching the Hale mansion replaying in his dreams.

The visions weren’t clear, but he saw brief instances of the fire; heard the screams. The bonds the Hale siblings had to the mansion were still strong, and so Stiles had been able to see a flash of Derek slipping into his sister’s Camaro, watching as the car drove away to who knew where. Had Stiles had more control over his powers then he might have been able to find out, though perhaps at his age he might not have been able to understand what he was looking at. That, and if his father hadn’t interrupted his contact with the house by taking him away from it. It would be a while before Stiles could start mastering even a small portion of his gift, and it would take time for him to realize the emotional toll using his powers could take on him as an empath.

It would take him longer still to understand why his heart ached with the loss of Derek’s presence, though the memory of the Winchester boys would teeter at the fringes of his mind. Until then, he found himself mourning the loss of something he couldn’t quite articulate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we finally hit some _Teen Wolf_ Season One elements! Hurray! Crossing my fingers it won’t take me too long to write like it did with this one.
> 
> Need reader feedback again, so here’s a new reader poll! As with the previous poll, voting for the following question closes once the next chapter gets posted. Looking forward to hearing people’s thoughts! I’m basically using readers as my muse’s tie-breaker for a few things.
> 
> **The question is:** Do you guys want to see Scott with Allison, Kira, someone else, or no one at all? (If you guys choose someone else, let me know who the character is you’re thinking of; however, if it’s not Allison or Kira, I can’t make any promises since I’m not sure I could do the pairing justice if I can’t see it flowing in my head, if that makes any sense.)


	9. The Road So Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapshots of the Winchesters’ journeys over the years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...I know I said that we were going to hit _Teen Wolf_ Season One elements now, but my muse took a sudden hit of inspiration and this chapter was born instead! Next one will be mostly Teen Wolf though, I swear! 
> 
> Just as a reminder—while I will be borrowing a lot of scenes and elements from both series, this fic will ignore just as much of the canonical elements. That means a lot of stuff is going to change, including dialogue, how people meet, origin stories of powers people possess, who lives, who dies, who comes back to life—either temporarily or for good, etc. Sorry if that disappoints anyone!
> 
> Specifically, for those wondering how _Supernatural_ comes into play, I am warning you right now that **I ignore that canon almost entirely.** I do keep a few of the elements from the years of 2007 to 2011 that I find key to include in this story, although **I also change some of the dialogue and circumstances of those scenes completely** in some cases. After we hit 2011, then I will be diverging from _Supernatural_ canon almost completely. If that confused anyone just now, hopefully things will make more sense after reading the chapter! 
> 
> Thanks also for all those who provide their support in other ways, by leaving kudos, subscribing, and even creating a bookmark! This chapter is my gift to all of you! Since this chapter is _Supernatural_ heavy, I’ve decided to format the dates as a small nod to the series.
> 
> Oh yeah! And last, but not least, the results of last chapter’s poll! Scott and Kira have it! Also, I’ve got **two more muse tie-breaker polls at the end of the chapter** that need your opinions! Thank you all so much for your speedy and thoughtful input!

**THEN**

_Unknown Date_

Azazel bowed before his master. Lucifer remained mostly hidden; all Azazel could make out was his silhouette.

“It is almost time,” said Azazel.

“How many have you gathered?”

“Five,” said Azazel. “Out of them all, they _are_ the _finest_.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed. “I thought you told me of one other.”

Taking care not to offend, Azazel suppressed his pleased grin. “Michael is not the only one with an alternate vessel, my liege.”

“Oh?”

“I have secured one for you as well.”

“The Sixth Child.”

“Yes.”

“How appropriate.”

Azazel dared. “You are pleased.”

His master’s teeth glinted. “Is he strong?”

“Not as of yet, although,” said Azazel. “Compared to his cousins, he has... _potential_.”

“Ah...I see,” Lucifer sighed contentedly. “So he belongs to the other Campbell.”

“He may grow to be much stronger,” Azazel agreed. “In fact, he is far more impressionable.”

“Simpler to control.”

“ _Precisely_.”

“Then take great care,” Lucifer commanded. “I want him brought to me when he’s ready.”

“If the other doesn’t cooperate?”

“No,” said Lucifer. “I have a new use for him.”

The corner of Azazel’s mouth quirked with amusement. He bowed once more before taking his leave.

“ _As you wish.”_

»»-------------¤-------------««

_2007_

There were three simple rules John Winchester had taught his boys growing up. Somehow, Sam seemed to have broken them all in one go.

“ _Never lay down your weapon.”_

Well, Sam had done that. To be fair, Sam had thought the other guy was dead.

“ _Never turn your back.”_

Well, Sam had done that too. Emphasis on his belief that the guy was dead. He had been _sure_.

“ _Finish the job.”_

Of course, that was the one thing that Sam _hadn’t_ done. It was moments like this one where he realized just how much Dean protected him from having to do things he didn’t want to.

“Sam! Look out!”

Sam felt his eyes widen in shock, feeling pain he’d never felt before and a crushing numbness all at the same time as he slowly crumpled to the ground. He barely registered when Dean caught him. He wanted so badly to reassure his older brother, whose eyes were wide and filled with panic, but Sam couldn’t find the energy to move his lips. He suddenly felt extremely sluggish and tired.

“Whoa, whoa, Sam... _Sam_! Hey! Come here. Let me look at you,” Dean said, placing his hand on Sam’s wound, his palm getting covered with blood. The older Winchester looked at his younger brother pleadingly. “Hey, _look at me_. It’s not even that bad…! It’s not even that bad, alright? Sammy? _Sam!_ ”

Sam’s breaths grew more shallow, and his eyes began to flutter. His older brother’s voice was starting to sound further away.

“Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna patch you up, okay?” Dean said, voice breaking as he felt like the world was crumbling all around him. “You’re gonna be good as new. I’m gonna take care of you. I’ve got you. That’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam? _Sam? Sammy!_ ”

Perhaps his brother might have taken comfort in his last fleeting thought before Sam crossed over to elsewhere, had he known what it was. Right before his last breath left him and his eyes slid shut.

“ _Dean...”_

For a moment, Dean was frozen, his younger brother’s lifeless body now slumped against him. Tears immediately sprung into his eyes, and his heart clenched, painfully so.

“No...” Dean said, softly at first before his voice slowly increased in volume. “No, no, no, no. Oh, God. _Sam_ …!”

It was the first time either of the brothers lost their lives in the field; the first either of them ever went through any significant pain since their parents. The minute he lost Sam was when Dean suddenly really experienced _clarity_. There was a truth that had always been there, but neither brother had ever realized, and Dean would be the first to in that moment. One that would strengthen the bonds of their brotherhood and ultimately change their lives forever.

The epiphany struck him as he was speaking to his brother’s still corpse. Little did he know that Azazel was watching; waiting to correct the mistake that had been made.

“You know, when we were little—you couldn't been more than 5—you just started asking questions,” Dean began. “How come we didn't have a mom? Why do we always have to move around? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time? I remember I begged you—‘Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don't want to know.’ I just wanted you to be a kid...just for a little while longer.”

The demon watched, using an orb of some kind, as Dean talked to his brother’s still form. Beside him was another demon; a beautiful woman.

“You rang?” she said coyly.

“You know why you’re here,” Azazel said simply, not particularly in the mood for her humor.

“Hmph. What makes you think he’ll come?” the Crossroads Demon asked.

“Oh, he’ll come...” Azazel said, grinning toothily as he focused on the images he was seeing. “Because he’s just realized what I’ve known about them all along.”

“Oh?”

“The _Winchesters_...” Azazel hissed. “They all share the same flaw...and it’s especially strong...with _them_.”

The Crossroads Demon stepped closer when Azazel motioned her to look at what was being projected in the orb. He glanced at her briefly, flashing his yellow eyes.

“You remember their father, John.”

“Oh _yes_...” the Crossroads Demon said with a slight smirk. “I most certainly do.”

“Then you know to what I’m referring.”

“They will do _anything_ for their _family_...” the Crossroads Demon confirmed. “But you say that it is stronger with them? How so?”

Azazel grinned. “My dear...there is nothing more dangerous and yet equally just as perfect than family knit so tight that the new world they create, once they realize this themselves, is so very narrow and limited.”

The Crossroads Demon raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Worry not over things you simply do not understand,” Azazel hissed in annoyance, yellow eyes flashing in her direction. “For your failure to grasp the situation bears no effect on what either I or our great Master has planned.”

The Crossroads Demon knew better than to scoff, so she didn’t. Still, she was unable to resist the urge to clench her fists angrily at her sides.

Azazel’s attention diverted briefly back to his view of Dean in the orb. The older Winchester was now at the end of his rationale.

“ _What am I supposed to do, Sammy? God. What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?!”_

Then, a light bulb seemed to go off over Dean’s head, and immediately thereafter followed a lot of shuffling and movement. Azazel turned to face the Crossroads Demon once more, a pleased grin on his face.

“Well?” he said. “ _That’s your cue._ ”

And although she had more questions, the demon knew better than to think she would get an answer for any of them. Silently vowing to figure out a way to get back at the Yellow-Eyed Demon someday, she quickly went to do her bidding.

It would be the easiest deal she’d ever made in decades. Unlike their father, Dean was not only still unseasoned in terms of experience in the world of demon hunting, he also lacked considerable bargaining power. At the very least, John Winchester had usually been ready with some sort of leverage, so that even though he couldn’t reach the exact result that he wanted, he could still come fairly close. Of course, there was also the older Winchester’s present emotional state and sense of desperation to factor in and credit for her easy victory.

It was soon after getting off the brief high of having sealed a deal so easily that the demon finally realized to what the Yellow-Eyed Demon had been referring to. Just as their parents’ world had been their boys, Sam was Dean’s world, and vice versa. Yes, they still loved their parents and would do almost anything to get them back, but when it came to each other, well. _There_ was something that neither brother would _ever_ give up on.

As many would go on to observe and as Azazel would heavily count on in the future, whenever they would be presented with a choice, to save each other or those around them, the answer would be the same. Every single time.

They would _always_ choose each other.

 »»-------------¤-------------««

2008

Sam would realize this approximately a year later. When the Hellhounds came for his brother. When he made a crucial mistake by trusting anyone else other than Dean, just because they looked human, and of course it helped that it came in the form of a pretty young woman.

“I’m not gonna let you go to hell, Dean!”

It was minutes to midnight and they were both terrified, but Dean had tried to keep on a brave face. Just for Sam.

“Yes, you are!” Dean said, shouting at first, but then after a minute spoke at a calmer volume. “Yes...you are.”

Sam just stared at him, uneasy. Breathing.

“I’m sorry,” said Dean. “I mean, this is all my fault, and I know that. But what you’re doing? It’s not gonna save me. It’s only gonna kill you.”

Sam looked away for a moment, trying to force back the tears that were threatening to fall. “Then, what am I supposed to do?”

“Keep fighting,” Dean said, sounding considerably more confident than he actually felt. “Take care of my wheels. Sam, remember what Dad taught you...okay? And remember what I taught you.”

At that time, Dean had actually believed he was saying his last farewell. He had no idea his brother would be as stubborn as he was and try to find a way to save him; to bring him back.

Their roles were oddly reversed when the Hellhounds broke into the room, the only difference really being whereas Sam had been quiet in his first bout with death, Dean had let out a guttural scream. To be fair, the Hellhounds were ripping into his flesh. Then, when it was over, just as Dean had a year earlier, Sam brought his older brother’s lifeless body to himself as he cried.

Azazel was overjoyed, to say the least, when Dean’s soul arrived in Hell, as it set off a chain of events that greatly benefited his master’s cause. He employed Alastair, his counterpart of sorts, known as the “White-Eyed Demon,” to torture Dean and encourage him to relieve himself of his pain by ripping apart other souls. Corrupting the spirit of one whose name was not originally written for Hell, it broke the first of the sixty-six seals keeping Lucifer in his cage.

For it was written: _The_ _first_ _seal_ _shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break._

And Dean had become a broken man indeed, by the time Castiel found him. Though Castiel followed his orders in taking Dean out of Hell, it was, in fact, already too late. Lucifer’s plan was well in motion, though all the players were yet to take their places on the board.

With the Winchesters back together and becoming ever more jaded by the day, Azazel was ready to launch the next phase of his plan. The preparation of vessels.

 »»-------------¤-------------««

2009

It was the perfect plan, or rather, it should have been. With Lilith’s death, the last seal on his cage had been broken, and Lucifer had surged out from his confines in Hell. However, victory proved elusive, as there was a snag. One that would challenge him time and time again, over and over. The resilience of the Winchester brothers. It would also be a sign of things to come.

The resurrection of Adam and his subsequent return in the Winchesters’ lives was the perfect illustration of what Azazel had observed aloud, a couple years prior. Though Adam was related to them through their father’s bloodline, he was still mostly a stranger. Although Sam, who’d always shown greater signs of empathy, tried to bring him into the fold, the flaw laid with Dean, who could never truly trust or care deeply for anyone other than his little brother.

There was the resentment too, of course, that Dean carried over this symbol of their father’s selfishness. To have learned that his father made a life after Mary, and that he tried to start over, living a double life of sorts by fathering Adam. Though Dean eventually started to warm up the idea, it wasn’t quite enough to raise internal conflict when both his brother and half-brother fell together in the pit straight for Hell, and when Dean was later given the choice of who to save, he had done so without hesitation.

The fear on Adam’s face struck a chord of guilt in Dean for only the briefest of moments. “We’ll come back for you,” Dean had promised.

A promise that had, whether due to circumstance or by accident, had eventually gone completely forgotten. Dean had his little brother Sam back, and that’s all that really mattered; all that ever would matter.

»»-------------¤-------------««

2010

Lucifer rammed at the bars of his cage in anger. To his credit, Azazel did not flinch.

“When I finally have them to their knees,” Lucifer promised. “They shall rue the day.”

Azazel bowed his head. “Of course. I have good news for you, Master.”

“And what might _that_ be?” Lucifer asked.

“The Sixth Child,” Azazel said, lips curling slightly into a grin. “He is being readied, though it will take just a bit longer, my liege.”

That had his leader intrigued. “Oh…?  You deem it worthy of the wait?”

Azazel bowed once more. “I would not have dared to suggest otherwise, Your Majesty.”

Lucifer nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Then go. And do not disappoint me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Azazel said before disappearing.

Meanwhile, up above, Sam was experiencing an unsettling dream. He and his brother experienced a lot of that lately; probably a side effect of the number of times they’d been to literal Hell and back, not to mention their each going through what felt like countless deaths and resurrections.

Lately, he saw visions of a town he only vaguely recognized. The dreams surrounding this place were lately recurring, and it was one of those more immersing experiences. Each time, Sam was able to explore the scenery a little more; get a little further.

Eventually, he saw a dark figure. There was something about it that Sam couldn’t place his finger on, but he felt like he should know it somehow. No matter how he tried, too, Sam found that he couldn’t reach whatever it was. It bothered him.

He didn’t like, either, the strange sense of foreboding that came with the sight of the figure, whenever he caught glimpse of it. Sometimes, Sam didn’t see it at all when he explored other aspects of the dream, trying to look for clues—though this was usually to no avail. Other times, the figure was there again, always just out of reach.

One night, he woke up in a cold sweat after seeing the figure again, this time surrounded by flames. For the first time in the dream, it moved. Still out of reach, and still not showing his face. Sam was no closer in determining whether the figure was friend or foe, but once he saw those flames following it around, he began to feel as if it were the latter. Like a ring of Hell was just following the figure everywhere it went, destroying everything it touched as it passed through.

The dream having shaken him to the core, Sam asked Dean about it, trying to see if the older man might have experienced it too, over some lunch at a diner. “Say, Dean...you haven’t happened to have any weird dreams lately, have you?”

His brother had stopped mid-bite of a burger to frown at him. “Strange dreams? No, Sammy, can’t say that I have. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. Never mind,” Sam said, shaking his head.

Dean stared at Sam. “You sure?”

“...yeah,” Sam said with a nod. “I’m sure, Dean.”

Having been through as much as they had, both brothers had somewhere along the way come to a silent mutual agreement that neither would press if there was something one of them didn’t want to discuss. The truth usually came out later at some point anyway. Dean could wait.

“All right, Sammy,” Dean said with a slight shrug. “If you say so.”

They had finished the rest of their lunch then in a bit of an awkward silence and that had been that. Sam wouldn’t come to realize the significance of his dreams until much later.

»»-------------¤-------------««

**NOW**

2011

Sam glanced over at Dean, who was slapping away at his steering wheel and singing one of many of the same old songs he always subjected the younger Winchester through during their car rides. They had just reacquired Sam’s soul, and so of course his older brother was in high spirits.

He sighed. “Remind me again why we’re going to Mexico?”

“To talk to some hunter group there,” said Dean. “They call themselves the Calaveras.”

“Sounds like a family name.”

“It is.”

“And why do we need to talk to them?” Sam asked.

“Because while _you_ were busy looking through books for our next lead, _I_ spoke to a few locals at a bar and they told me something interesting,” said Dean. “Apparently there’s this thing called a Nemeton, and there's a few of them that have been activated; one real recently.”

“Yeah? And why are we interested in the Nemetons?” asked Sam.

“Well, sometimes a Nemeton is known as Hell’s Door,” Dean said grimly. “And I have a feeling there’s a lot more to it than that which we don’t know.”

“So you think these Calaveras will have all the answers?”

“Not all, Sammy,” Dean said, shaking his head. “But enough to figure out how much of a threat they are. And whether Lucifer can use one of them to climb out of his cage like a portal.”

"That shouldn't be possible though, right?" asked Sam. 

"Right, but I'm not passing up on the chance to get some valuable intel," said Dean.  "Even if there's no way for him to get out using the Nemeton, we still need to know more about them.  Because apparently, they attract creatures to it like moths to a flame."

Sam frowned.  "How come Dad never told us about this?"

Dean shook his head.  "I don't know, Sammy.  Maybe he didn't know about it, or he just didn't have time.  You remember we weren't always together."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," said Sam.  "But why the Calaveras, specifically?  Can't we ask other hunters?  You know...ones more local?"

"Well, there's something else I want to look into too," said Dean.

Sam raised an eyebrow.  "Yeah?  What's that?"

"Could be nothing," Dean admitted, shaking his head.  "I'll have a better idea when we get there."

"You gonna tell me then?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a nod.  "If it's something."

Sam sighed, noting that Dean's tone was finite.  "Alright."

A silence settled between the brothers, and after a while, Sam slowly closed his eyes as he nodded off.  When he opened them again, it was to a devastating scene of hellfire and brimstone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the wait for this chapter didn’t feel too painful! For those wondering whether the Wincest/no Wincest poll that happened early on in this fic affected this chapter? It did. Specifically, it determined which scenes I chose to flesh out, and a few subtle shifts in the story to set the stage for other parts. Also, since there’s no Wincest, I chose to format this chapter in more flashback form as opposed to putting more time in building a certain atmosphere, since I figured people don’t really want a rehash of the few canonical elements I did end up deciding to borrow from the series. There also isn’t anything huge to introduce just yet, other than the fact that Azazel doesn’t die like he should have if I were following canon to the letter. Just an example of how reader votes matter when I need a muse-tiebreaker!
> 
> Speaking of which, I’ve got another reader poll for you guys, and just like all the others, voting closes as soon as the next chapter gets posted. This vote, like all the others, helps shape influences nuances of certain scenes as I continue developing the story. (It’s also the reason why I ended up writing these scenes before the chapter I had intended to post, mostly because I realized I needed to figure out which way I was definitely planning to go before moving forward.)
> 
>  **First Question:** Who would readers like to see Lydia with? Jackson, Aiden, Parrish, someone else, or no one?
> 
>  **Second Question:** Would you guys object if I wrote most of the new characters in Teen Wolf’s Season Five as kids of the main cast? (E.g. kid!Liam, kid!Mason, etc.) Or should I keep those characters at their canonical ages?
> 
> Looking forward to seeing what you all think! See you all again next time!


	10. Not Quite a Fresh Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott becomes a werewolf. Stiles starts to remember bits and pieces of memories from his childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we’re _finally_ hitting some Season One elements! Just scratching the surface though, really, but fret not! There will be more to come. Remember—some things in here will be as you remember them, other times dialogue/when characters meet/relationships/etc. will be different.
> 
> For anyone wondering about the extent of Stiles’ powers, I will say that the inspiration for his powers primarily comes from three places. The first, is the BBC Merlin-verse. Fun fact—initially, this was supposed to be a triple-crossover fic with Merlin, and Stiles and Derek were supposed to be reincarnations of Merlin and Prince Arthur, respectively. However, I soon quickly nixed that idea since I thought the Merlin show might be a bit out of place here. Anyway, when I say Stiles has “pure magic,” I was thinking in a similar sense as Merlin from that show. 
> 
> As for Stiles’ empathic abilities, his “seeing” is a cross between Cisco Ramon’s “vibing” from _The Flash_ , and Professor Xavier’s utilization of Cerebro. If you’re familiar with these abilities, then you should see bits and pieces of their mechanics as Stiles’ powers are explained. 
> 
> Also, unless people ask for it to come back, I am not planning to include any more date subheadings now that we’ve hit “present day,” though if dates are relevant, they will still be indicated in the text itself. I’m doing this because I feel like the subheadings will start to become more distracting that not, since I was mostly using them up until now to help guide the background information I was setting for the story. 
> 
> No reader poll this time, although I have the results of the last poll at the end of this chapter, for anyone that’s curious! Voting is now closed!

_January, 2011_

_Present Day_

Despite his past trauma as a result of having ignored his mother’s warning regarding his soulmark, Stiles was still a closet-romantic at heart, although he had vowed to never again search for his own soulmate. Instead, he found that he was content to live through watching the relationships of others bloom as a result of his efforts.

It had started as a bit of a joke, at first. While still in the early stages of trying to understand his powers, Stiles had participated in the school-run carnival. He had set up the booth as a fortune teller as a freshman. It had been a fairly popular act; most of the students who participated had only done so for fun. Several days later though, word had spread like wildfire about how scarily accurate Stiles’ love predictions had been. From that moment onward, Stiles found himself constantly approached by those wanting to know their chances with a potential significant other.

Much like at the present moment. Stiles had been approached by several girls wanting to know if their crushes were planning on asking them to the upcoming homecoming dance. Stiles let out a steady breath and concentrated on the girl before him as he placed two fingers lightly over the girl’s soulmark, searching for anything relevant to the guy she had indicated her interest in. The interesting thing about reading objects or soulmarks, Stiles found so far from his experience, anyway, was that he could read as far into the future as he wanted. He couldn’t be sure though, since he’d never stretched too far ahead, but from what he could tell from his experimenting so far, it seemed that way. For readings such as this one, however, he barely had to reach to get the answer he needed. He found what he was looking for in a matter of moments. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes and gave the girl a small, reassuring smile. Lifting his hand, he motioned for the girl to lean in closer. The girl quickly complied.

“Stick around by your locker after your last class,” Stiles whispered. “He’ll approach you then. Don’t let word get around, alright? It might make him nervous.”

The girl gasped excitedly in response and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh my god! No way! Thank you so much! I won’t, I swear!”

Stiles chuckled to himself softly as he watched the girl practically bounce towards her friends. He wondered if the girl would heed his warning. From experience, he’d found that for the most part they did, although every once in a while a few wouldn’t, too caught up in the excitement. Stiles had been more lengthy with his warnings at first, about how sharing his predictions too soon could change their outcome, but the grapevine eventually took care of relaying that message. Word of Stiles’ matchmaking abilities had evolved into mythical proportions.

Stiles had to admit that it was a talent, how he was both the most talked-about boy at Beacon Hills High School and yet also the most invisible. There were moments where Stiles sometimes found himself questioning whether it had been a good idea to reveal his abilities to _see_ as a sort of gimmick. Prior to high school, Stiles had kept mostly to reading objects. Following the instructions laid out in his mother’s journal, Stiles had started to hone at least a portion of his abilities as an empath by touching anything and everything in his home that reminded him of his mother. Through trial and error, he learned that he could tap into the memories contained in objects that once held significance to his mother and be able to see her to the extent that everything was in the past. Stiles learned quickly that he was unable to communicate with the dead, nor did he have the ability to see where someone went after they died. He could only see a person’s future if they were still living, and even then they were still glimpses. Stiles had to at least know what he was looking for in order to find it.

At the sound of shuffling beside him, Stiles turned turned his head to see Scott, who’d settled into the seat beside him wearing one of his trademark lazy grins. “That another one?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said with a nod.

“Man, you know what I don’t get?” Scott asked as he stretched his arms over his head.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Hm? What’s that?”

Scott shook his head. “How you’re perfectly okay with helping everyone else with their love issues, but you haven’t even _tried_ to look for yours. I mean, if I had that kind of sixth sense, I would have used it on myself a long time ago.”

Stiles shrugged. “Takes the mystery out of everything, you know? Besides, I told you that you’re going to be dating a girl—”

“With pretty eyes and dark hair. I know, I know,” Scott laughed as punched Stiles’ shoulder playfully. “Doesn’t count though; you said she goes to our school, but neither of us have seen this girl yet!”

Stiles held up his hands. “Hey! Don’t shoot the messenger, alright? I can’t help that I don’t know when you’re going to meet her! It’s not like my visions have a calendar and clock in the corner or something.”

“Yeah, well, I think your radar’s off on this one,” Scott said, shaking his head. “I want my money back.”

Stiles snorted. “Sorry, I don’t do refunds.”

Scott’s laugh was somewhat drowned out by the shrill sound of the bell going off to signal the start of class. Students quickly scrambled to their seats and soon it was just another ordinary day at Beacon Hills High School. Little did they all know that the end to the town’s quiet days were quickly approaching.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Derek’s expression was grim as he sat quietly beside his older sister, Laura. The atmosphere inside the Camaro was thick with silence as they headed in the direction of Beacon Hills. At a certain point, Laura glanced at her brother from the corner of her eye. Derek’s expression was rather grim.

Laura released a soft sigh. “ _What_.”

Derek shook his head as looked at his sister, a brow slightly raised. “What do you mean, ‘what’?”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Derek. You know _exactly_ what I mean. What’s with that look on your face? You look like you want to say something, so say it.”

Derek frowned. “I just don’t see why we have to go back, is all. I mean, are you sure about this?”

Laura let out another sigh. “Look. I told you I found a lead on what happened to our family—”

“Which I don’t trust,” said Derek. “ _At all_.”

His sister continued on, ignoring him. “Not to mention I think I might have found something on Peter.”

“And I told you, that’s _insane_ , Laura,” Derek said, shaking his head. “There’s no way that...”

Laura’s eyes softened when her brother trailed off. Derek folded his arms over his chest and he turned his head. His sister saw the muscles in his jaw clench as he forced back the tears. The older were let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and gently placed a hand atop her brother’s knee and squeezed.

“Hey...” she whispered. “We don’t have to stay, okay? We can leave...as soon as I’ve checked up on some things.”

Derek didn’t reply. Laura nudged at her brother’s leg.

“You hear me, Der?”

“...yeah, Laura,” Derek finally managed to choke out softly, after a few moments. “I heard you.”

The two Hale siblings fell back into silence for the remainder of the ride. It would be several hours before they’d finally reach Beacon Hills, a sleepy town that had been, at the time, blissfully unaware of the drastic changes ahead as a result of their arrival.

»»-------------¤-------------««

While most teenagers got things like video games, electric guitars, and car keys confiscated from time to time by their parents as punishment, for Stiles, it was a police radio scanner. It was never quite clear how exactly he had managed to get his hands on one, but the minute he did, it was most certainly a driving cause behind his father’s many migraines. His father regularly hid, and several times even attempted to toss, said police scanner. Unfortunately, his son was quite clever and the thing always seemed to end up back in his possession sooner or later. Eventually, the Sheriff had mostly given up on the effort; however, that didn’t mean he condoned what he viewed as his son’s delinquent behavior.

There were days, more often than not, where the Sheriff wished his son had an after school hobby that was more suited for a kid his age. One that would consume his son’s free time, since clearly being a bench warmer on the lacrosse team wasn’t enough.

Every once in a while though, even if the Sheriff hated to admit it, he found that he was a little grateful for his son’s habit of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. His son’s knack for solving obscure cases were second to none, and if it weren’t for how much Stiles exasperated his father, the Sheriff might have admitted to being proud of his son’s genius.

On the whole, Stiles had never gotten himself caught up in anything extremely serious. His luck, however, unknowingly ran out in the same instant Laura and Derek Hale quietly returned to Beacon Hills.

The night everything changed had been one like any other—Scott had busied himself in his room with his evening routines; restringing his lacrosse stick and managing to get a few pull-ups in before he decided to call it a night and started to brush his teeth. He stopped halfway, however, when he thought he heard a suspicious noise. Daring to investigate, Scott threw on a hoodie and made sure to carry with him his mother’s baseball bat; her weapon of choice against any intruders.

Heart pounding, Scott cautiously walked about his front porch. He let out a scream when Stiles suddenly appeared, hanging upside-down from his roof, letting out a startled scream of his own.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?!” Scott asked once he’d somewhat recovered.

“You weren’t answering your phone…!” Stiles said by way of explanation, voice cracking slightly. “Why do you have a bat?”

Scott looked briefly at the bat in his hands and then shook his head a bit at Stiles. “I thought you were a predator!”

“A pre—?” Stiles scoffed. “I—wha— _look_. I know it’s late, but you’ve gotta hear this.”

Scott sighed. Now that he knew that there wasn’t any kind of imminent danger, he could give his friend his attention.

“I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago,” said Stiles. “Dispatch called? They’re bringing in _every officer_ from the Beacon Department and even state police.”

“...for what?” Scott asked, not nearly as excited as his friend appeared to be.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods,” Stiles said, pausing briefly so he could perform a back flip off his best friend’s roof.

“A _dead_ body?!” Scott asked.

“No, a body of water,” Stiles replied sarcastically. “ _Yes_ , dumbass! A dead body.”

He climbed over the fence onto the McCall’s front porch. Scott’s eyes lit up with interest.

“You mean, like, _murdered?_ ” he asked.

“Nobody knows yet,” said Stiles. “Just that it was a girl...probably in her twenties.”

“Well, hold on,” said Scott. “If they found a body, then what are they looking for?”

“That’s the best part!” Stiles said while wearing an impish expression. “They only found _half…_!”

Scott raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Stiles nodded, responding to Scott’s unspoken thoughts. Words that would seal their fate, and ultimately set a centuries-old plan in motion.

“ _We’re going.”_

»»-------------¤-------------««

The bite Scott experienced might have been more painful if it hadn’t been for the overpowering fear that had filled him when it happened. Over the course of the next few days, he experienced rapid changes. When he’d expressed his concerns to Stiles, it was like an age-old switch was activated.

Stiles had joked about it at first, saying that Scott’s condition sounded like a case of _lycanthropy_. The more he talked about it aloud with Scott, however, as they walked through the forest looking for his inhaler, the more Stiles felt fleeting, long-forgotten memories from his early childhood start to resurface.

Neither of them noticed at first the fact that there was someone who had been quietly watching them since they’d entered the forest. Or rather, Derek had been following them the minute he’d caught a familiar scent; one that he hadn’t caught in a long time.

It wasn’t until Stiles felt an odd tug—something telling him to turn around—and when he responded to that pull, he was surprised by who it was he saw in the distance. It had been years, and Derek had certainly grown even more since the last time Stiles had seen him, but he had no trouble recognizing who the man was. Stiles felt his heart rate increase as the older man approached them.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked. “Huh? This is private property.”

Stiles found that he didn’t know where to look. Part of him wanted to avert his gaze from the awkwardness, but a greater part of him wanted to keep his eyes on Derek. The man had already been attractive, from what Stiles remembered, but now he was even more handsome.

“Uh...sorry, man,” Stiles finally managed to say sheepishly. “We didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, apparently finding his voice too. “We were just looking for something, but...uh...forget it.”

They were both surprised when Derek threw Scott’s inhaler at him before quietly turning around and walking away. Scott held an odd expression on his face, looking down at his inhaler, then at Derek’s retreating backside before glancing over at Stiles.

“All right, come on,” he said. “I’ve gotta get to work.

Stiles stopped Scott momentarily, placing a hand on his chest, the look in his eyes clearly showing that his brain was whirring at a mile a minute. “Dude!” he said. “That was _Derek Hale_. You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

Scott frowned. “Remember what?”

“His _family?_ ” Stiles emphasized, unable to believe Scott didn’t remember as readily as he did. “They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago.”

He was a little disappointed to see that didn’t seem to ring any bells for Scott, but he let it go. Scott looked back in the direction Derek had gone.

“I wonder what he’s doing back.”

Stiles scoffed, as if to say, “the hell if I know,” but Derek’s return gave him the feeling like something was on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach. The feeling grew in its intensity later on, while watching Scott play lacrosse. Reacting on instinct, Stiles found himself performing research, although Scott was more inclined to call it that with air quotes around it. Scott had thought the leap from potential rabies to the diagnosis of _werewolf_ was a stretch, but Stiles seemed thoroughly convinced.

“Stiles, you realize how crazy this sounds, right?” Scott said, shaking his head. “Werewolves aren’t real.”

Stiles was surprised to find how Scott’s statement made him bristle. “They are real,” he said adamantly, despite realizing how childish he probably sounded in that moment. “And you’re one of them.”

“Ugh, whatever, I don’t have time for this right now,” said Scott.

“What! Scott! Where do you think you’re going?”

“To Lydia’s party!” said Scott. “I’ve been invited because of people on the lacrosse team are starting to recognize me, and I’m not going to pass this chance up!”

“Who on the lacrosse team is impressed?” asked Stiles. “You mean _Jackson?_ Because let me tell you, man. Jackson is totally suspicious of you, and I wouldn’t trust him! If anything, he just wants to keep a closer eye on you.”

“Well...whatever!” Scott exclaimed. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m going.”

“No. Scott. Come on...this is stupid,” said Stiles. “Don’t you know what tonight is?! It’s the full moon, dude!”

“What are you trying to do?” Scott asked, exasperated. “I just made first line. I got invited to a party, because people think I’m one of the cool kids, now, and...I don’t know! I might even get lucky and meet a cute girl there too, which would make my life pretty much perfect. So why are you trying to ruin it?”

“I’m trying to help,” Stiles said, sounding just as frazzled. “You’re cursed, Scott. You know, and it’s not just the moon will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak.”

“Bloodlust?” Scott asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” said Stiles. “Your urge to kill.”

“I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles,” Scott growled.

“Look, you’ve gotta hear this,” Stiles said, reading something he’d found over the course of his research. “It says here ‘the change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse.’ Alright? You’re high as a kite from all these changes right now, Scott. And if you _do_ happen to meet a cute girl there? Your pulse is going to skyrocket. That can’t happen, man. You’re not going to this party.”

Scott shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry Stiles, but I’ve got to get ready. We can talk about this later, all right?”

“No, Scott. Scott? Scott! Argh...” Stiles groaned as Scott bolted out of the room before his friend could catch him. Stiles let his head hit the wall with a thud as he sighed. “Oh...this isn’t going to be good.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

“When my mother told me you were coming back, I couldn’t believe it,” Beacon Hills High School’s most popular girl, the redhead Lydia Martin said as she brushed her hair and looked at the girl that was behind her. She turned and smiled at the dark-haired girl. “I’m so glad your family moved back to Beacon Hills, Allison.”

The girl, Allison Argent, smiled back at her childhood friend warmly. “Me too, Lydia.”

“And what better way to introduce yourselves to people at our school than at this party!” Lydia said before shrugging a shoulder and rolling her eyes a bit. “Well, the ones that matter, anyway.”

Allison laughed, shaking her head with a fond expression on her face. Lydia apparently hadn’t changed much since childhood.

“You about ready to go?” she asked.

Lydia fluffed her dress. “Yes, I think so.”

“Well, come on then!” Allison said with a laugh, holding out one of her arms for Lydia to take hold. “You need to introduce me to this Jackson Whittemore you keep talking about.”

She received another one of Lydia’s signature eye rolls. “Well, _duh_. Of course!”

»»-------------¤-------------««

To say Derek’s headspace was a mess was an understatement. He cursed himself for not having fought harder to keep his sister Laura from bringing them back to Beacon Hills. Now she was dead, and as far as Derek knew, he was now truly alone in the world. In terms of pack status, he was an Omega, and that was a truly daunting scenario.

There was the matter of another wolf, an Alpha at that, that was running loose in Beacon Hills and apparently trying to form its own pack. Derek knew that Stiles’ friend had been turned; he had scented it off the boy, and now he resolved to make the teen part of his own pack before the Alpha that turned him could get to him.

Which led him to the thought of Stiles—Derek vaguely recalled how his heart fluttered upon catching the boy’s familiar scent. The scent of someone he’d almost allowed himself to forget, believing that he’d never see them again.

He remembered, however, how he’d heard the boy laugh with his friend, making fun of the idea of werewolves. The words had unexpectedly pierced Derek’s heart; clearly this was not the boy he’d left behind, the one with an unquestioning belief in the supernatural. In his disappointment, he hadn’t heard Stiles say his name shortly after he departed. For all he knew, the boy had failed to recognize him, despite the uptick in heartbeat that Derek had heard.

Tabling those thoughts for now, Derek chose to focus on what he’d tasked himself with, which was to recruit Scott McCall. He began by observing Lydia’s party from a distance, scanning the crowds and assessing the best time to make his entrance.

Meanwhile, Scott was nearby the punchbowl when he turned around and suddenly found himself greeted with an armful of brunette. A million alarms went off in his mind as soon as Allison came into focus; the first thing he noticed was her beautiful eyes and dark hair. He suddenly felt the urge to call Stiles and say something about how his best friend’s prediction seemed to be _right on the money_ , as usual. Scott thanked his lucky stars.

“Um...h-hi,” Scott stuttered.

The pretty brunette laughed at his awkwardness. “Hi,” she said with a smile. “What’s your name?”

“S-Scott.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Scott,” said Allison. “I’m Allison.”

“Pretty...” Scott said, his expression clearly lovestruck.

“Pardon?” Allison asked, eyebrows scrunching together in amusement.

Scott quickly shook his head. “I-I mean...t-tonight! Isn’t tonight really pretty?”

Allison seemed to sparkle in his eyes as she laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is!”

“Do you go to Beacon Hills?” Scott asked before shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around...I-I mean…! Not to say that I never would have noticed you, it’s just—”

“ _Relax_ , Scott,” Allison said with a chuckle. “My family and I only just moved to Beacon Hills. My first day of school is tomorrow.”

Scott blinked. “Oh. Would you, uh...would you like to dance with me?” he blurted.

The reflection of the party lights seemed to dance in Allison’s eyes. “Sure,” he said with a smile. “Lead the way.”

It was when they got outside that Scott’s good humor quickly dissipated, and he began to feel the ill effects from his first full moon experience. Allison frowned, looking at him.

“You okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine,” Scott said, trying to shake the feeling off.

“Are you okay?” Allison repeated, looking at him with concern. “You look a little green.”

“I’ll be right back,” Scott said, pushing past several people.

He barely registered the fact that Stiles was there at the party. He was too distracted to marvel at how his best friend could have possibly pulled that off when he wasn’t even on the guest list.

“Go away,” Scott said in response to Stiles’ banging at the door.

“Scott, it’s me,” Stiles said, his voice somewhat muffled through the barrier. “Let me in, Scott. I can help.”

“No!” Scott protested. “Listen, you’ve gotta find Allison.”

“She’s _fine_ , alright?” Stiles said, exasperated. “I saw her get a ride from the party. She’s—she’s totally fine, alright?”

“No,” Scott said. “I think I know who it is.”

“You just let me in,” said Stiles. “We can try—”

“It’s _Derek…_!” Scott growled out. “Derek Hale is the werewolf…! He’s the one that bit me. He’s the one who killed that girl in the woods.”

Stiles’ banging stopped momentarily. “Scott...Derek’s the one who drove Allison from the party.”

He frowned when there was silence and was surprised to push open the door without resistance. He cursed inwardly when he noticed that Scott was no longer there.  
  
_“Scott!”_

»»-------------¤-------------««

“ _Where is she?_ ” Scott growled, confronting Derek when he’d finally found the older man.

“She’s safe,” Derek said tightly. “From you.”

“What did you do with her?” Scott whined.

“Shh...quiet,” Derek hissed, ears twitching as he listened. He shot Scott a look of disgust. “Too late. They’re already here. Run.”

“What?” Scott asked, bewildered.

“ _Run!_ ” Derek thundered as he practically threw Scott ahead of him.

Unfortunately at some point, one of the individuals pursuing them had managed to pin his wrist to a tree with an arrow. Scott let out a roar of pain. Fortunately for him, Derek was able to break him free just before those in their pursuit could get to them.

“Who were they?” Scott groaned.

“Hunters,” Derek said, expression grim. “The kind that have been hunting us for centuries.”

“ _Us?!_ ” Scott exclaimed. “You mean _you!_ _You_ did this to me!”

“Is it really so bad, Scott?” Derek sneered. “That you can see better—hear more clearly—move faster than any human could ever hope?! You’ve been given something that most people would kill for. The bite is a gift.”

“I don’t want it...” Scott whined.

Derek huffed. “You will,” he said. “And you’re gonna need me if you want to learn how to control it. So you and me, Scott—we’re brothers now.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Scott glared at Derek for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Derek broke the silence.

“Don’t wander around anymore tonight,” he said. “Get yourself home, Scott.”

Before the teen could reply, the other were had gone. With a sigh, Scott finally heaved himself from the tree trunk he’d been leaning on and headed for home.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Scott told Stiles about his suspicions of Derek being a werewolf being confirmed the next day, and frowned when the other teen didn’t give him much of a reaction.

“You don’t seem surprised,” he said.

“Hm? What? No! No...I was just...you know, a little distracted thinking about something,” Stiles lied.

Not yet able to tell the difference between a truthful statement or a lie, Scott didn’t press. “Yeah? What?”

“The people you said were chasing you guys...” Stiles said contemplatively. “Derek called them hunters?”

“Yeah,” Scott said nodding.

“Would you remember their faces if you saw them?” Stiles asked.

Scott shrugged. “Maybe. One or two of them, why?”

Stiles worried his lower lip with his teeth, wondering how he might ask the question, especially given how hazy the memory of his childhood was. Before he could describe who he was thinking of however, they were both interrupted by Allison.

“So what happened?” she asked, expression unamused. “You left me stranded at the party.”

“Yeah, I...I know,” Scot sputtered. “I’m really sorry, I am, but...you’re gonna have to trust that I had a really good reason.”

“Did you get sick?” she asked.

“I definitely had an attack of something...” Scott said, and he could hear Stiles groan softly beside him.

“Am I gonna get an explanation?” Allison asked.

“Can you just find it in your heart to trust me on this one?” Scott countered, wearing his kicked puppy dog expression.

Allison sighed. “Am I gonna regret this?”

“Probably...” Scott replied with a sheepish expression on his face. “So...is that a yes on a second chance?”

“Definitely yes,” Allison said with a smile, which dropped slightly when she turned and noticed a man a short distance off. “That’s my dad. I’d better go.”

A chill coursed through Scott’s spine upon realizing he recognized who Allison’s dad was. His eyes widening slightly, Scott pulled Stiles with him as he dragged his flailing best friend and himself from view.

“What! What? What?!” Stiles asked, scrambling to regain his bearings. “What is it, Scott? What’s going on? You look spooked.”

“Totally,” Scott said, face pale. “I just recognized Allison’s dad.”

Stiles frowned. “What? You already met the guy? When?”

“Last night,” Scott said through gritted teeth.

“Oh? Oh. _Oh_ ,” Stiles said, eyes widening in realization.

“Are you just going to repeat everything you say multiple times?” Scott asked, somewhat exasperated.

“What? Hey! Not my fault! You’re giving me a whole hell of a lot of information to process, all at once,” Stiles said, moving his hands about.

Only Stiles was capable of making a hand gesture look sarcastic. Scott sighed.

“Well? What are you going to do?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know,” Scott answered, using his trademark phrase. He shook his head. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Well, let me help you this time,” Stiles muttered.

Despite being worried for his best friend, Stiles found that he also felt a little relieved knowing that perhaps these hunters weren’t who they might be after all. Still, with all of the new changes, Stiles knew that he was going to have a lot of work cut out for him. He just didn’t know exactly what yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...you guys got extremely lucky with this update because most of this chapter was already pre-written, due to have it having been intended for last chapter. I even made sure to extend it more than it was originally, to make up for how long it was since my last update. I don’t know when exactly that was, but I’m guessing around August, based on the date of the initial contents on the chapter. LOL...literally did not realize that much time had passed, so again, so very sorry to all my readers and thanks so, so much to all those who are hanging with me! Your loyalty is greatly appreciated.
> 
> Also, here’s the results of last poll!
> 
> Majority voted for a Lydia/Jackson relationship pairing, and were all for the Season Five cast to be kids instead of their canonical age. As before, I was at a clear plot crossroads where I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to take the fic one direction or another, and your voices have helped me tiebreak what my muse was contemplating, so thank you to all who participated!
> 
> I don’t anticipate there will be any more reader polls for a while, but I’ll be sure to let you guys know! Looking forward to see what you all thought of this one, and hope to hear from you all again next chapter, when it gets posted!


	11. Convergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A curse awakens in Beacon Hills, one that will not be recognized for what it is for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...apparently something went super wrong with my computer and I lost _all_ my notes for this story, which is unfortunate, because with how busy my school schedule keeps me, I rely heavily on the notes I write for myself on my longer stories, like this one. I've got ongoing stories in different fandoms under a couple other pennames that I'm about to pick back up as well, and they've all fallen victim to the same fate. So the bad news is, I don't entirely remember every nitty gritty detail that I had painstakingly mapped out for this story. On the other hand, I was at least smart enough to write the biggest plot points out on traditional pen and paper copy, and I was able to dig out that notebook today, so at the very least I still know where I am generally trying to go with all this. 
> 
> I got some people wondering last chapter if this thing is really going to deviate from the actual canon because some parts seemed so similar to it, and I can assure you you're going to see a lot more of the canon divergence here and moving forward. Hopefully the length of the chapter makes up a little for the long ass wait I've put all you readers through, and thanks so much to all those who have remained loyal and peppered in a few encouraging comments here and there for me. No promises on when the next chapter will be out yet, but I'm trying not to take too long again.

“Araya Calavera?”

The old Mexican woman smiled and turned from her window, cup of tea in her hands. “I hear you boys were looking for me.”

“Dean Winchester,” the older Winchester said, stepping forward. “And only recently.”

“Ah...” the woman said with one of her wry smiles. “ _Winchester_...so you’re both John’s boys, then.”

“Nothing I’m sure you didn’t know,” Dean said evenly.

Araya nodded. “This is true,” she said. “You boys are cursed."

Dean frowned.  "How do you mean?"

Araya swiftly changed the subject.  "Well? How can I help you boys?”

Sam kept quiet, but he was tense. He didn’t like this woman from the minute he looked at her. Fellow hunter or not, he didn’t trust her, not one bit. He assumed his brother felt the same way, but clearly Dean had an easier time of not showing it.

“We’re looking for some information,” said Dean. “We’ve been hearing some rumors...”

Araya chuckled. “Oh...you’re going to have to be more specific than that, my boy,” he said, her eyes crinkling, but the seemingly kind expression had something more sinister lurking beneath it. “Or we could be here all night.”

With a price for each story told, she didn’t say, but it was clearly implied. Of course, that kind of caveat was nothing new to the brothers, given their experience as hunters. Dean cleared his throat.

“What do you know about the Nemeton?” he asked.

Araya paused for a moment, then her lips curled into a twisted smile. “The _Nemeton_...” she said. “Ah...now that...that’s a very long story indeed.”

She took a sip from her cup and then motioned to some chairs in the room in front of a desk. “Why don’t you boys sit down,” she said. “I’ll tell you what you need to know."

The Winchester boys exchanged a look before following her to their seats. Araya smiled as if like a spider who’d caught something very valuable in its web.

»»-------------¤-------------««

If there was anything Stiles enjoyed and could get fixated on for hours, even days on end, it was a good mystery or a puzzle. Derek’s return signified something, _he knew_ , but he just couldn’t place his finger on it.

 _Fact_ , Stiles mused. _Derek Hale returns to Beacon Hills six years after the infamous Hale fire._ He scribbled his thoughts out on the pad of paper before him as his mind worked quickly through his thoughts, attempting to connect all the dots, as it were. _Sometime before or after, Scott gets bit. Derek’s sister, Laura, is found dead. In fact, her body is severed in half._ Stiles sighed and scratched out several more words on the paper and circled them several times for emphasis.

_Werewolves are **real**. _

He tapped his pen several times in rapid succession against the notepad. There was a thought tugging at the back of his mind and he just couldn’t shake it loose, which frustrated him.

Stiles stared at the paper for a long time. Finally, he let out another long-suffering sigh before putting his notes away. He had a newly turned were to assist.

Had he spent a little more time with his thoughts, however, he might have been able to just scratch the surface. The problem wasn’t that werewolves were real, after all. The real question was _why,_ after the long stretch of silence in terms of supernatural activity enjoyed by Beacon Hills, were they experiencing a sudden influx of it, and what that truly meant.

»»-------------¤-------------««

A blonde woman grunted as she tossed a few more things into the trunk of her car before shutting it and turning to face the old man behind her, a shotgun held in one hand. “And you’re sure about this?” she asked.

The older man nodded. “I’ve called ahead to your brother, and what he didn’t say, his wife was more than happy to fill in for him behind his back.”

The blonde woman smiled. “I knew I always liked Victoria.”

“As do I,” the older man agreed.

“He knows I’m coming?” the woman asked.

The man’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “More or less,” he said. “Now Kate.”

“Yes, Father?” Kate said, her lips twisting at the corners to match her father’s.

“You know Chris will try to be difficult about things; he’s always failed to see the bigger picture,” the old man replied. “I want you to know that no matter what he says, you just stick to the principles that I’ve taught you.”

“Oh of course, Father,” Kate said, cocking the shotgun still in her hands for show. “After all, I’m an _Argent_.”

The old man winked at her and grinned in approval. “Now that’s my girl,” he said.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Centuries ago, when the world was still fairly new to the concept of modern civilization, Beacon Hills was not yet tainted with the blood of innocents somehow caught in the crossfire. That changed with the arrival of a man once known by the name of Seth Géraud. He was a holy man, or rather, that’s what he’d considered himself. Obsessed with religion and the name his parents had given him; reading into it a meaning that they hadn’t intended, but he’d grown up truly believing he was some kind of anointed spear.

Lost in his delusions, he had garnered a strong following. In him, Lucifer saw an opportunity. At night, the Prince of Darkness whispered in the man’s ear.

Quickly becoming his loyal disciple, Seth had been more than enthusiastic about performing the rites to establish a Nemeton in Beacon Hills. He was promised a glorious position in his afterlife, after all. Once the oldest tree in the forest had been cut down, Lucifer appeared to his follower in a vision and bestowed upon him a new name.

»»-------------¤-------------««

“ _Azazel_ ,” Araya said, smiling at the Winchester boys. “You may know him as the Yellow-Eyed Demon.”

Dean frowned. “Azazel,” he said. “ _He_ created the first Nemeton?”

“ _One_ of the first,” Araya corrected. “Though there was always something about Beacon Hills, even before the demons came. The energy has always been strong in that area.”

“Any particular reason?” Sam asked, unable to help his curiosity.

Araya gave a slight shrug of the shoulder. “Irony, perhaps,” she said. “The Nemeton acts like a flare signal.”  
  
“Or a _beacon_ ,” Dean said dryly. “Ha-ha. Very funny. I get it. So, what activated this one, and what does it mean now that it has been activated?”

“The blood of a virgin, or an innocent,” Araya replied. “The more sacrifices it receives, the stronger it becomes. The more demons will be drawn to it.”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” said Sam.

“Perhaps,” Araya agreed. “But perhaps you will also face challenges you’ve never faced before.”

“Such as?” Dean asked.

“Ah,” Araya said with a crooked grin. “I believe that’s enough questions for the time being. Perhaps I could tell you more some other time. For now, let’s talk about what you boys can do for _me_.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Stiles replayed the latest developments in his life over and over in his mind, wondering what had gotten him to this point. His best friend was a werewolf. His best friend’s girlfriend came from a family of hunters, who wanted said best friend dead. And then there was the matter of Derek.

Derek, who’d practically lost his entire family and came back with his sister, only to lose her too, and be accused of killing her. Thanks to Stiles and Scott’s well-intentioned, but flawed detective work, of course. And even after he’d managed to clear his name, Scott had thrown him right back under the bus again when the Alpha had infiltrated their school. Stiles didn’t know why it bothered him so much, the fact that it felt like Scott was getting so much special attention from Derek. After all, it wasn’t like either one wanted to interact with the other by choice. It was a werewolf thing; something Stiles was learning by observing Scott. Some days he wanted to be a part of it. Other days, not so much.

Like this day. Derek had gotten himself shot, apparently, by a bullet filled with wolfsbane. While Scott was searching for the right bullet at Allison’s place, Stiles was driving Derek around in his car.

Stiles groaned when Scott sent him a text message asking for more time. Out of frustration, the teen threw his phone down beside him. He was agitated, and not just because Derek reeked of death and decay beside him. There was something deeper there, that Stiles just couldn’t place his finger on. A memory, buried in the far recesses of his mind that was trying to tug loose, but he couldn’t reach it.

He turned to Derek. “Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay?” he said. “We’re almost there.”

Derek grunted. “Almost where?”

“Your house,” said Stiles.

“What? No!” Derek said, glaring at Stiles. “You can’t take me there.”

“I can’t take you to your own house?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“Not while I can’t protect myself,” said Derek.

Stiles’ lips pressed into a firm line and he immediately pulled over. If Derek wasn’t in so much pain, he might have noticed the uptick in the teen’s heart rate, and he might have pondered over what that could have meant.

“Alright. What happens if Scott doesn’t find your little magic bullet, hmm?” Stiles asked, heart clenching with a level of concern he didn’t fully understand why he was feeling. “Are you dying?”

Derek grit his teeth. “Not yet,” he said. “I have a last resort.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, nervous about what the response would be, but unable to stop the train wreck of a question from passing through his lips anyway. “What last resort?”

He cringed with disgust when Derek pulled back his sleeve, revealing the serious wound. “Oh, my god,” Stiles said, gagging at the sight. “What is that? Ugh...is that contagious? You know what? You should probably just get out.”

He didn’t actually mean it. Stiles’ mouth tended to run away with him when he was nervous. Derek glared at him.

“Start the car,” he said, deadpan. “ _Now_.”

Stiles knew better, but he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay?” he said. “In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead.”

Derek growled. “Start the car, or I’m gonna rip your throat out,” he said. “ _With my teeth_.”

Stiles had already known this was an argument he wasn’t about to win. He turned back to look out the windshield and started up his car without further protest.

As they drove around for a while longer, all Stiles could think about was how he hoped Derek wouldn’t die, and he wondered why that sentiment felt so familiar to him. There was that memory again, perhaps from his childhood, that was trying to shake loose. He wished his dad were around so he could ask him about it. He felt like his dad might know, or at least be able to give him some kind of clue to work with.

When Scott called back, they’d argued a little over what to do with Derek, who was starting to really smell like he had one foot out and one foot in his grave. Stiles made sure to emphasize that to his friend, with a sense of urgency in his voice. They eventually resolved to take Derek to the animal clinic.

Upon arriving, Derek was quick to take off his shirt and stagger towards a table, leaning against it for support. The first thing Stiles noticed was right in his face; the sight of the Triskelion on the older man’s back. He wondered if it was Derek’s soulmark, though he tucked away that information for later. He was too distracted by Derek’s injury, which was worsening. So focused on wanting to keep Derek alive, he hardly noticed the mark on Derek’s shoulder, one that mirrored the one on his backside. Not that it would have mattered; he wouldn’t have necessarily made the connection anyway. Stiles hadn’t thought much about his soulmark until his mother died, and after seeing the horrible vision that came with it, he’d never bothered to turn around and look in a mirror to check what exactly it was.

Instead, and again, out of nervousness, Stiles started running his mouth. “You know, that really doesn’t look like anything some echinacea and a good night of sleep couldn’t take care of…!”

Derek sighed and nearly rolled his eyes. “When the infection reaches my heart, it’ll kill me,” he said before turning to rummage through the clinic’s cabinets and drawers for a bone saw.

“ _Positivity_ just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?” said Stiles.

Derek groaned softly in annoyance. “If he doesn’t get here with the bullet in time,” he said, breathlessly. “Last resort."

“Which is?” Stiles asked, instantly feeling a chill roll down his spine and not liking where this was going.

His heart plummeted when Derek showed him what he’d been looking for. “You’re going to cut off my arm,” he said.

Stiles floundered. Derek pushed the instrument towards him. Stiles turned the machine on for a blink of a second before letting it clatter back onto the table.

“ _Oh_ my _god…_!” he gagged, looking at Derek, who was tying a makeshift tourniquet. “What if you bleed to death?”

“It’ll heal if it works,” Derek grunted.

“Ugh…! Look—I don’t know if I can do this,” said Stiles.

“Why not?” Derek asked.

Stiles waved his hands about and spoke in a voice that in a more lighthearted context might make one believe he was trying to do an impression of Ross from the TV show _Friends_. “Well, because of the cutting through the flesh...the sawing of the bone...and especially the blood!”

Derek growled in frustration. He was not about to die because of this teenager’s incompetence. Sure, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about losing a limb either, but it was most certainly better than death.

They had a bit more back and forth, and the next thing Derek knew, he’d ended up on the floor. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but he was sure it was less than five minutes, when Stiles had smacked him back awake. Really, he’d been punched, but thanks to his werewolf genes, it was more like a harsh sting, if anything. He regained consciousness in a daze; mildly noting that Stiles was off to the side, groaning and cradling his injured hand. Derek looked about and spotted Scott.

“Give me...” he said weakly, holding his hand out for the bullet.

Scott handed it to him and helped him up, and in the next several seconds, he’d taken care of his problem. When the wound had completely healed, Stiles let out an ill-timed cheer.

“That. Was. _Awesome…_! _Yes…_!” he said, earning a look from Derek and his best friend.

For a fleeting moment, while Scott was confirming that Derek was indeed okay, Stiles noticed it. The second mark on the shoulder, though Derek turned it away from him before he could get a better look at it. Stiles got to wondering if Derek had a second soulmark, and whether it was possible for a person to have more than one. He wished his mother were still alive so that he could ask her about it; he was sure she would have known more than his father would, but he knew that there was something else he could consult. His mother’s diary. Stiles made a mental note to search its contents later.

Shortly after Scott and Derek exchanged a few choice words about working together, the older werewolf had taken them to see his uncle. Peter Hale. He explained that Scott’s girlfriend’s family, the Argents, were responsible for the fire that had taken the lives of his family all those years ago. Stiles flinched when Derek told his story; the sharp pain causing him to look away. The other two were too distracted to notice Stiles shiver, a sudden flashback hitting him of the dream he’d had when he was younger. The one where he hadn’t been sure what had woken him. All Stiles remembered was that it had woken him up screaming. The feeling lasted only for a moment, and he was back to normal by the time the nurse came in asking them what they were doing, and Derek gruffly informed her that they were leaving.

Stiles had time to mull over his thoughts on his lone drive back home. He had a lot of information to process. When he returned to his desk, Stiles had been about to reach for his mother’s diary when he looked down at the pad of paper he’d abandoned earlier that week. The circled words, _werewolves are_ _**real** _ seemed to glare up at him; challenging. As if his own subconscious thoughts knew something that he probably didn’t, and that bothered Stiles.

He paused and pondered. Some of the answers would come to him soon enough. What would come much later, however, years from then, would be all the fragments coming together to create the big picture.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Thousands of years ago, a man named Seth Géraud had literally made a deal with the Devil, who had granted him near immortality to do his bidding. Over the years as Azazel, the Yellow-Eyed Demon worked up the ranks of the Underworld and became leader of his own army, collecting souls and bringing them to his master, to strengthen him for Armageddon.

The universe, though, was nothing but fair when it came to matters of balance, and this disruption to order awakened a beast deep in the bowels of Hell that began to watch, learn, and bide its time for the right moment to act. There was a flaw about it, by Hell’s standards, at least, and it was perhaps ironic that a creature known as one of the Underworld’s Gatekeepers possessed the traits of a soul and curiosity. A tiny light piercing through the pit of darkness.

When Derek killed Paige back in 2004, the demon arose and left its confines unchecked. Unnoticed by all around it until it was too late to capture and contain.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Sam frowned after he and his brother got into the Impala. “Are we sure we believe her?” he asked.

“She gave us a good a lead as any,” Dean said as he started the car. “But she was clearly withholding information from us.”

“To get us to do her work for her?” Sam asked.

“Partly that,” Dean said with a nod. “But there’s something else too, I think. Something that’s been bugging me.”

“You mean the part where she didn't elaborate on what she meant by 'you boys are cursed'?" asked Sam.  "Because I've been wondering about that since she said it."

“Well, word travels fast in the hunters network, Sammy, you know that," said Dean. "We haven't exactly had the best of luck these past few years."

"I don't know, Dean," said Sam.  "There's something that bothers me about the way she'd said it.  Like we're supposed to know what she means, but if we don't, she's not going to bother to enlighten us."

"I think you might be reading too much into that particular one, Sammy."

"Agree to disagree," Sam said.  "So if that's not what's bothering you, what is then?"

Dean shook his head as he started to drive them along.  "I don’t know, Sammy. I can’t be sure,” he said. “But I think either she gave us enough information about the Nemeton to figure things out for ourselves, and there’s supposed to be some sort of significance to that...”

Sam arched an eyebrow at him. “Or?”

“ _Or_ ,” Dean said. “She’s actually told us all that she knows and doesn’t know the rest—only that there _is_ a rest. That would explain why she hasn’t done anything about what she’s told us.”

"And you think _I'm_ the one reading too much into things," Sam said with a snort.

"Well?  You think I'm wrong?" Dean challenged.

"No, I just think you're stupid," Sam said.  "For taking some of her words at face value instead of considering them all to be suspicious."

Dean grunted.

“Anyway, you think she would?” Sam asked, skeptical. “Do something, I mean, if she knew how to stop the world from ending.  She didn’t strike me as someone with a hero complex.”

“Maybe not,” Dean agreed. “But she’s certainly self-preservationist enough to stop the world from ending, if only to be able to keep herself alive in it.”

“Guess you’re right...” Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So? Think this errand she’s got us running as something to do with this?”

“Won’t know till we get there,” said Dean. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if it did.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Sam was not the only one to dream of brimstone and fire. There was another man, miles away from either Mexico or Beacon Hills, who’d been experiencing the same visions, though not yet night after night. Though they were still not yet frequent, each time that they happened, the man found himself searching. It would be another couple of years yet before any of it made any sense, but in the meantime, if there was any word to describe them, it would be _disturbing_.

The day the man would know what to do, or rather, what his next step was that he had to do, he would wake up burning with a fever and drenched in sweat. He’d open his eyes and see the world in red, and his irises would appear as if they were burning like a flame. Or perhaps more accurately, like rings of fire.


	12. The Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason why Peter has always been so off-kilter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can hardly believe how long it's been since I've written an update for this fic, and I also can't believe Teen Wolf is ending. I've had so many ideas, but honestly the changes in my real life have left me extremely fatigued. That said, I really wanted to get an update in before the year ended, but I also didn't want to write a crummy update. So it's really taken time. Anyway, hope this is the start of me powering through to the finish line of my vision for this story.
> 
> I'll need to go back and make several revisions to this fic, now that certain things have been revealed in canon since I started writing this. We now know Sheriff Stilinski's canonical name is Noah, so I think I should go back and change that, and that the nickname for Stiles is Mischief, so I guess I should change that too. Unless no one cares, of course. In which case, I guess I'll leave things be.
> 
>  **Lastly, before we begin, I have a promise to fulfill.** With this update, I am spreading the word on behalf of a fellow AO3 writer whom I happened to learn about on Tumblr. They have been going through a rough patch, and recently set up a [PayPal.me](https://www.paypal.me/celestialvoid) link, for anyone willing to submit a donation. As someone who constantly struggles to balance work and time to enjoy writing stories like this for people, and also someone who constantly battles depression myself, I can empathize.
> 
>  **If you find it in your heart to donate to the cause, the author's name is CelestialVoid, and their PayPal.me link is<https://www.paypal.me/celestialvoid>. You can find more information on their specific situation [here](http://celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com/paypal.me), as well as a more expanded explanation of it [here](http://celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/165169519006/what-would-donating-to-you-cover-its-kind-of), on their Tumblr.**  
> 
> That said, if you know your favorite author, artist, gif maker, Tumblr poster, etc. has a Ko-fi account, or a PayPal.me, or whatever, please consider supporting them through those methods. A lot of creative minds go through similar struggles of not having enough time, sometimes lacking inspiration, or fighting the crushing weight of depression, and oftentimes these individuals also don't have the best finances, for whatever those reasons may be. So if you are able to give even a small amount, I know that it would be greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Anyway, that ends my PSA. Moving on. 
> 
> Some canonical scenes will still occur in this fic, but more often than not, they will be out of order compared to how it was in canon. There will also be alterations to lines and actions at times, in order to fit what I need to get this story to work. Onward we go!

Peter was nothing but a patient man. A true predator, expertly biding his time for just the right moment. A rather complicated man, there had always been something off about him, even in his youth. The Hale fire, of course, led to his psychotic break. He’d been cruel before, not really feeling one way or the other as he messed with the lives of those in his family. After the tragedy, the bloody murderer lying dormant within him woke.

If someone were to ask him how he managed to survive the Hale fire that night—albeit sustaining some severe burns—Peter honestly wouldn't be able to answer.  Notwithstanding the fact that he wasn't much of the speaking sort, these days.  

The whispers that plagued his mind were unbearable.  Peter was certain he was losing it.  He had no idea he was actually one of many test subjects, perhaps slightly more successful than the rest, but only just.  Unbeknownst to him, he was something of a key to something bigger.  Something far more sinister.

»»-------------¤-------------««

From his vantage point in Hell, Azazel grinned.  He ran his fingertips along the orb as he watched Peter's hand twitch ever so slightly as he sat, seemingly shellshocked in the hospital.  Slowly, Azazel slipped a finger into the orb, which seemed to give like a liquid, until he appeared to tap Peter's head.  There was a ripple.  Up above, where Peter was, his neck suddenly stiffened, and his eyes began to glow red.  Azazel withdrew his finger, and the orb appeared to be just a viewfinder of sorts again.  He turned his head when he heard his master roar from deeper within the bowels of Hell.  He wasted no time in making his way to Lucifer's Cage.  When he reached it, two hands shot out, seemingly from nowhere, gripping tightly at the cage bars.  Azazel didn't so much as flinch.  Fiery eyes gazed into his own.

"You summoned me, Master?" Azazel asked.

Lucifer snarled.  "I am in need of more souls."

"And they will soon be coming," Azazel promised.  "I have one of my brightest working on it."

"A Child?" Lucifer asked.

"Imperfect as a vessel, but he has proven he can be useful in other ways," said Azazel.  "As a Reaper with no code.  He is busy quenching his thirst for blood as we speak."

Lucifer bared his teeth.  "Excellent," he hissed. 

»»-------------¤-------------««

_"Derek."_

Derek turned around from where he stood.  Upon seeing that the owner of the voice was Laura, he instantly knew he was dreaming, and yet there was a small part of him that wished that this was the waking world, just in that moment.

"We never should have come back here," said Derek.

Laura shook her head.  "We had to, Derek."

Derek frowned.  "I don't understand," he said.  "Why?"

"Think," was all Laura offered cryptically in response.  "Derek.  _Think_...!"

»»-------------¤-------------««

Derek woke with a start.  The sound of a howl could be heard in the distance.  _The Alpha_ , Derek recognized.  He moved.

In the time it took him to get dressed and charge towards the sound, Jackson and Lydia were at a video rental store, where the latest Alpha attack just took place.  They were just getting over their shock when Derek climbed onto the store's rooftop.  Immediately he noticed the spiral drawn out on the ground in blood.  Squatting down, he trailed his fingertips over a portion of it, and bristled.  His brain clicked all the relevant facts together quickly.  The Alpha was after Scott.  He was the one who bit him in the woods; started the transformation. 

 _"Think!"_ he heard Laura's voice echo in his mind.  _"Come on, Derek.  Think...!"_

He heard Lydia pull out her phone and start to call the cops down below.  Derek ran.

»»-------------¤-------------««

"Here you go," an officer grunted as he and one other lifted either end of the fallen DVD shelf off of Jackson's body.  "Upsie daisy."

Jackson groaned as the heavy weight was lifted off of him.  He barely heard or understood what it was the officer closest to him said to him; he was still in a daze.  His mind kept playing back, over and over, the sequence of events that had led up to that point.  The dead body.  The lights going out.  The shelves toppling over.  Getting pinned to the ground.  The hairy beast.

 _Definitely not a mountain lion_ , Jackson thought to himself, but he would never say this out loud.  The truth, after all, was way too farfetched to admit.  What Jackson remembered seeing, from the corner of his eye, was a hairy beast, towering over him on its hind legs.  He had no idea why he was spared the same grisly fate as the video store employee.  He recalled the way the beast had run its claws down the nape of his neck, drawing back the collar of his leather jacket, trailing over the cuts that were still healing there.  His mind jumped, then.  Thinking back on how he'd gotten _those_. 

It had been the same day Derek had gotten shot, though Jackson didn't know that.  The man looked pallid and _reeked_ , but Jackson had simply assumed he was a drug dealer addicted to his own product.  Derek had been looking for Scott.  When Jackson was not forthcoming with the answers he needed, and instead annoyed him with questions and demands of his own, Derek had slammed his head into the lockers.  Jackson remembered noting that Derek's nails were abnormally sharp; he had been stunned by the invasive jab he felt on the back of his neck.  It was like three small knives sliding into his flesh.  Not that he really had a point of reference from personal experience, but he was pretty sure that he hadn't been too far off.

When the creature had run its claws over his wound, the healing scars had glowed.  Though of course, Jackson didn't know this had happened.  Rather, he felt a brief heat flash in the shape of his wounds, for just a moment before it quickly disappeared.  Then the creature had moved, leaving Jackson to wonder over why it was he'd been spared.

Before he knew it, he was brought up to his feet, and he was checked over by EMTs while sitting beside Lydia at first, in the back of an ambulance.  Once he was done being examined, Jackson immediately got onto his feet, ready to take Lydia and leave.  He argued with an EMT who was trying to prevent him from doing so.  He snarled when Sheriff Stilinski approached him after exiting his squad car and getting a brief status report from another EMT on the scene.

"Why the hell can't I just go home?" Jackson snapped.  "I'm _fine_."

The Sheriff sighed.  "I hear ya, but the EMT says you hit your head pretty hard.  They just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion."

Jackson seethed.  "Wh-wh-what part of ' _I'm fine_ ' are you having a problem grasping?" he asked, stammering only because he was so irritated.  "Okay?  I  _want_ to  _go home_."

"And I understand that," the Sheriff said, his tone resigned.

From where he was sitting in the squad car, Stiles squinted at the scene.  His eyes widened when he noted another dead body.  _Okay, this shit is getting weird_ , Stiles thought to himself.  _There's no way this is the work of a 'mountain lion.'_

Up on the roof, Derek was back, looking down at all the excitement happening down below.  Beside him was Scott, whom he'd gone to fetch for the sole purpose of showing him this scene.  The freshly turned werewolf looked over at Derek and shook his head.

"Derek," he said.  " _Why are we here?_ "

"To show you this," Derek said simply before glancing over at Scott, meeting the younger werewolf's gaze.  "To show you that this is something you can't escape."

"What, _killing people_ _?!_ " Scott asked, alarmed.  "Is that what we do?  Go out in the middle of the night on a murderous rampage?"

"No," Derek said, shaking his head.  "We're predators.  We don't have to be killers."

 _"Think, Derek...!"_ Laura's voice echoed in his mind again.

Derek's jaw set.  "I don't know," he admitted.  "But that's what we're going to find out."

There was a slight pause in his movements as his eyes flitted towards movement coming specifically from Stiles, whom he noticed pop out of his father's squad car.  Scott frowned a little as he observed Derek's brows furrow together, his eyes following Stiles' movements. 

"What is it?" Scott asked him.

He could see the way Derek's pupils contracted, like he was coming back into focus or being knocked out of a trance.  Derek shook his head. 

"Nothing," he said gruffly before turning, tilting his head and silently ordering Scott to follow.  "Come on.  Let's go."

Scott took one last backwards glance at his best friend down below, wondering what it was Derek seemed to have seen, and what it was he could be missing.  He then turned and ran after Derek, who was already a considerable distance ahead of him, and tried not to lose him.

»»-------------¤-------------««

" _Okay_...so...what are we doing here?" Scott asked as he followed Derek, who was walking up the stairs of the ruins of the Hale Mansion. 

Derek stopped in his tracks and turned around to face the younger werewolf, glaring at him.  "I'm going to teach you how to survive."

Scott raised his eyebrows.  "You're going to _what?_ " he asked incredulously.  "Whatever, man.  Can't it wait?  I mean, unlike you, I _do_ still have school to worry about..."

Derek clenched his teeth in annoyance.  "And you just don't get it," he said, shaking his head.  "There _will_ be _no more school_ if you don't know how to fend for yourself against the Alpha."

"How do you even know he wants me, anyway!" Scott asked, exasperated. 

Derek sighed, looking almost as if he wanted to hang his head in frustration.  He was never meant to be a pack leader; that hadn't been how his parents had raised him.  This was new territory for him too, but he knew he had to step things up, given the current threat.  Although he would most certainly have preferred it if he'd been given someone more experienced to work with; preferably a pure-blooded werewolf.  Unfortunately, he was in a situation where beggars couldn't be choosers, and he had to make do with this.

"He gave you the bite," Derek said, struggling to articulate in layman's terms the things he simply knew and took for granted because he'd been raised on such knowledge. 

It was difficult for him, as someone who had all this come second nature to him, to explain it to someone who was completely foreign to every aspect of it.  The culture, the terminology—just _everything_.  Scott jut out his chin.

"Okay!  He gave me the bite," he echoed.  "So?"

" _So_ ," said Derek.  "That's significant.  An Alpha is nothing without a pack to lead.  That's why he bit you.  He's trying to build one.  He's trying to make you a part of his pack."

"You're insane," said Scott.

" _No_ , you're a _target_ ," Derek said, his lips curling downward in annoyance.  "There's less than a week to the full moon, and you're going to need to learn to protect yourself so that you're prepared for when he finds you."

"Why does he want me in his pack, anyway?" Scott asked.  "And can't you just find and defeat him yourself?"

" _Vengeance_ ," Derek said in response to Scott's first question.  He recalled the bloody spiral he'd found on the rooftop of the video store.  He shook his head in response to the teen's second question.  "An Alpha is not something one werewolf can take down alone.  We're strong in numbers.  A pack makes the individual more powerful.  Not to mention, like most Alphas, this one is smart.  He lives up to his rank.  He won't be easily caught."

"Well, how can I help if I don't even know what I'm doing?" Scott asked.

"The Alpha bit you, which means you have a connection with him; a link you can't understand," said Derek.  "But I can help you understand it.  If I can teach you how to take control over your abilities, then I'm sure you can find him."

"And how are you going to do that?" Scott asked, before roaring suddenly when Derek took hold of his wrist and snapped it.  "Dude!  What the hell!"

"It'll heal," Derek said flatly.

"It still fucking hurts!" Scott exclaimed.

"Pain," said Derek.  "Is what keeps you human.  It also triggers the healing process in weres.  This is basic groundwork for what's going to keep you alive."

»»-------------¤-------------««

_"Jackson."_

The star lacrosse player frowned, turning to face the owner of the voice.  "Stiles," he said dryly.  "What do you want."

"Not much, buddy boy..." Stiles said, grimacing and shrinking back a little when the other teen glowered at him.  "Just, uh...wanted to see how you were doing...you know."

"Well, since your dad _finally_ cleared Lydia and I to go home, that's exactly what I was planning on doing," said Jackson.  "Now if you'll excuse me—Lydia's waiting in the car."

"Wait!"

"What?" Jackson asked, annoyed, whirling back around to glare at Stiles again.  " _God_ , why are you so fucking annoying!"

"Sorry!  It's just...your neck," Stiles said, motioning to where Jackson's wounds were located.  

Jackson threw up his walls; his eyes were guarded.  "What about it?" he asked tightly.

"It's just..." Stiles bit his lower lip.  "It looks like it's bleeding."

Jackson frowned.  "What?"

Before he could instinctively reach for the back of his neck, Stiles did it for him.  Stunned at first, he didn't kick so much as a fuss when Stiles' hand made contact with his skin.  He was also momentarily distracted by the way Stiles' eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, and it was only when the other teen gasped that Jackson finally came to his senses, frowned, and knocked Stiles' arm away.

"Dude, what the hell!" he snarled, backing away from the other teen. 

Stiles quickly scrambled back, holding up his hands, using them as a feeble shield against Jackson's wrath.  "S-sorry...!" he stammered.

"You're lucky I'm too fucking tired to deal with your weird shit right now," Jackson sneered, jabbing a finger hard against Stiles' chest.  "I'm out of here."

He turned on his heels and marched towards Lydia's car.  In doing so, he missed the way Stiles' jaw shifted slightly back and forth before setting.  His eyes took on a bit of a faraway look.  He'd only had the briefest of moments, but Stiles had been able to read a little from touching Jackson's wound.  The images confused him.  There had been brief glimpses of Derek, and then the Beast.

 _Definitely not a mountain lion_ , Stiles mused to himself in grim confirmation as he stood there, trying to sort out all the images he'd seen.  He nearly growled in frustration.  It wasn't enough.  He could have used a few more minutes gleaning information from Jackson's wound.  He wondered how Derek was involved.  The thought unsettled him, for some reason.

His father clapping a hand on his shoulder snapped Stiles out of his reverie.  He looked over at the Sheriff, who appeared a bit tired, in that moment. 

"Come on, son," said Sheriff Stilinski.  "Let's go call it a night."

»»-------------¤-------------««

Meanwhile, that same evening, Dean and Sam were on the road.  They were en route to the location Araya Calavera had pointed them to.  For their mission.  At some point, Sam glanced over at Dean. 

"Can we stop by a motel for a little while?" he asked.

"What's the matter, Sammy?" Dean asked.  "Feeling tired?  Why don't you just push back your seat?  Get yourself a little shut-eye."

"That's not what I need," Sam said, shaking his head. 

Dean frowned.  "Then what?" he asked.  "Why the need for a special pit stop?"

"I need the Internet," said Sam.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because," said Sam.  "There's something that's been bothering me about this whole errand."

"Yeah?  Like what?" asked Dean.

"Well, if she needs this so badly, then why can't she get it herself?" Sam asked with a shrug.  "Why ask us to fetch it for her?"

"Beats me, Sammy," Dean said, shaking his head and keeping his eyes on the road.  "I tend not to ask questions I don't think I want to know the answers to."

"Yeah, well _I_ want to know the answers," said Sam.  "So let's find us a place to crash."

Dean sighed.  "All right," he said, using his blinker to signify a change in lanes as he shifted to the right.  "If that's what you need."

"I promise it won't be a waste," said Sam.

"Sure."

Sam used his phone to draw up reviews for motels nearby where they would be able to access the Internet.  When he found one, he directed his brother to it.  The minute Dean pulled into the parking lot, Sam wasted no time scrambling out of the car with his things; his older brother close behind him.  Dean checked the both of them in while Sam bee-lined to their room once he was handed one of the keys.  By the time Dean made his way into the room as well, his younger brother was already in the thick of his research.  Wearing a half-smile, Dean began to shed his leather jacket and eventually hung it up on the back of a chair in the room.

"Find anything good, Sammy?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam said with a nod, scrolling down the webpage he was viewing.  "This Stone of Laputa."

"Uh huh..." said Dean.

"It's apparently rumored to be sealed away someplace," said Sam.  "In Texas."

"Well, that explains why the Caleveras want us to go get it," said Dean.  "They're probably not too keen on trying to cross the border, just so they could have that one thing."

"Doesn't explain why they trust us," Sam muttered.  "I wouldn't even trust us, if I were them."

"Yeah, but we're all hunters," said Dean.  "They probably think we'll adhere to the code."

"Haa..." Sam said, shaking his head.  "They don't know a thing about us Winchesters."

"You're damn right."

»»-------------¤-------------««

Even before news of Laura Hale's death spread, Deaton knew trouble was brewing.  He already felt the change in the air of Beacon Hills.  Still, he couldn't help holding onto hope.  Sure, Beacon Hills still had its strange occurrences, but the sleepy town hadn't seen a heavy surge of supernatural activity for years.  That was, until now.

After the most recent of the so-called mountain lion incidents, Sheriff Stilinski had come to him much later that same evening with questions, which the veterinarian deflected, despite knowing more than he let on.  After the Alpha attack on Jackson and Lydia, the Sheriff had been more persistent, but Deaton still somehow managed to turn him away.  Then, just as he was about to relax, Derek appeared.  He had just finished a round of training with Scott.  Deaton gasped in surprise and took a step back.  Like a predator eying and assessing its prey, Derek took a heavy-footed step forward.

"The police seem to think you know something," said Derek.

"P-pardon?" Deaton asked, forehead already breaking out in a nervous sweat. 

"But I was listening to your heartbeat," Derek said, taking another step forward.  "When the Sheriff was questioning you just now."

Deaton gulped and took another step back.  Derek was slowly backing him into a wall.  The werewolf shook his head.

"You might have been able to convince _him_ that you know nothing," said Derek.  "But you can't convince _me_.  I can tell that you're lying.  What are you hiding?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about—!" Deaton flinched when Derek smacked his hand against the patch of wall beside his head; the wall felt cool behind his back.

"Who are you protecting?!" Derek snarled, eyes flashing blue.  "Better yet—what are you hiding?!"

_"Hey!"_

Deaton's eyes widened when he saw Scott.  Not knowing that the teen had become a werewolf himself, the man warned him away.

"Scott, get out of here!"

"Stop!  Stop!" Scott shouted in alarm when Derek punched Deaton unconscious.  "What are you doing?!"

"He's suspicious," said Derek.  "He definitely knows more than he's willing to admit."

"So!" said Scott.  "That doesn't mean you had a right to knock him out like that!"

"I do if he's not who he says he is," said Derek.

"Whoa, _wait_...!" Scott said incredulously.  "You think he might be the Alpha?!"

"Only one way to find out," Derek said, pulling his arm back, his hand curled into a fist.

"Stop!" Scott snarled.  His transformation into his were form took Derek by surprise, especially since the teen had been struggling with his transformation for the better part of the night.  "Hit him again, and then you'll see me angry."

"Fine," Derek said, clipped.  "Then do you have a plan?"

"I just need one hour," said Scott.

"Then what?" asked Derek.

"Meet me at school," said Scott.  "In the parking lot."

Derek pointed back at Deaton.  "We're taking him with us."

"Fine!" Scott said, exasperated.  "I'm going to prove to you my boss isn't the Alpha."

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" asked Derek.

"You'll see!" said Scott.  "Like I said, meet me at school.  I'll be there in a few—just got to make a pit stop first."

Derek frowned.  "An extra stop?" he asked.  "Where?"

"I'm going to get Stiles," Scott said with a half-smile.  "He'd kill me if I didn't include him in all of this."

The mention of Stiles' name made Derek's jaw tense.  "Scott," said Derek.  "Stop."

"What?" Scott asked, having been about to turn on his heels but pausing for a moment to look at the other man questioningly. 

Derek shook his head.  "You can't involve him."

"What?  Why not?" Scott asked.  "He's my best friend.  I involve him in everything!  _Especially_ stuff like this."

Derek frowned.  "He's human."

"Yeah, well he's more capable than you know," said Scott.  "Just trust me."

He was gone before Derek had a chance to force him to think things over.  Derek growled to himself in frustration before tying Deaton up and hoisting him over the shoulder effortlessly, carrying him and then placing him in the back of the Camaro.  He then wasted no time starting up his engine and pealing out of the veterinary parking lot towards Beacon Hills High School. 

»»-------------¤-------------««

Scott and Stiles were already there by the time he pulled into the lot.  Derek climbed out of his car, his thoughts distracted by both the sight and scent of Stiles.  Derek wondered if maybe it was their brief history together, or maybe it was the fact that he'd recently lost the last person in his life that he'd really felt close to—Laura—that was causing this overpowering feeling of nostalgia rising within him. 

"Where's my boss?" Scott asked, breaking Derek out of his thoughts.

"He's in the back," Derek said gruffly.

Scott glanced over at Derek's backseat and nodded, satisfied, despite not being pleased that his employer was unconscious and bound.  "Oh, well he looks comfortable," Stiles quipped sarcastically.

Derek frowned at them both.  He stopped Scott as the teen started towards the school.

"Wait.  Hey.  What are you doing?" Derek asked.

"You said I was linked with the Alpha," said Scott.  "I'm gonna see if you're right."

Against his better judgment, Derek let the pair of them go with that statement.  As soon as the teens made their way inside, Stiles started asking Scott questions on their way into the school's main office.

"Okay," said Stiles.  "One question.  What are you gonna do if the Alpha doesn't show up?"

"I don't know," said Scott.

"And what are you gonna do if he _does_ show up?" Stiles asked. 

"I don't know," Scott admitted again.

" _Good plan_ ," Stiles said dryly, and Scott couldn't help make parallels in his mind between his best friend and Derek.  "Couldn't we have thought this through more before we came all the way down here?"

Scott shook his head.  "I walked in on Derek about to kill Deaton," he said.  "I wasn't going to just sit back and let that happen."

"So you decided you were going to leave Deaton with _Derek_...who ended up knocking him unconscious, tying him up, and then throwing him into the backseat of a car?  Bring him here?" Stiles asked incredulously.  "First of all, I fail to see how that was a good decision.  Derek could have killed him the minute you left."

"But he didn't!" Scott protested.

"He could have though, right?" asked Stiles.

"Not the point!" said Scott.  "I made sure Derek gave me his word to give us an hour."

" _Right_..." Stiles said, shaking his head.  "Because we can always just take a werewolf—which is a being who should only exist in fairytales, by the way—simply at their word!"

"You said that a wolf howls to signal his position to the rest of the pack, right?" Scott asked, changing the subject.

"Right," said Stiles.  "But if you bring him here, does that make you a part of his pack?"

"...I hope not," Scott said with a grimace.

"Yeah.  Me too," Stiles said, fiddling with the PA equipment until it was ready.  He handed the microphone over to Scott.  "All right.  All you."

Scott had to admit, he'd been too self-conscious at first.  The first sound he made sounded like a cross between a cat being strangled and nails scraping down a chalkboard.  Outside, Derek hung his head in exasperation and grumbled in annoyance.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me..."

Meanwhile, Scott was looking over at Stiles for a sign of approval.  "Was that okay?" he asked.  "I mean, that was a howl, right?"

"I... _yeah_.  Technically," Stiles said, voice doing that little squeak at the end when he was trying not to hurt his best friend's feelings, but was  _totally_ lying.  

Scott noticed, of course.  "Well, what did it sound like to you?" he asked, his tone indicating he was demanding the truth.

"Like a cat being choked to death, Scott," said Stiles.

"What do I do?!" Scott whined in frustration.  "How am I supposed to do this?!"

"Hey, _hey_.  Listen to me," Stiles said as he started massaging Scott's shoulders like a trainer would with a boxer in the corner of a ring.  "You're calling the Alpha, alright?  Be a man.  Be a _werewolf_ , not a teen wolf.  _Be_ a _werewolf_.  Do it."

This time when Scott let out a roar, it was admittedly overboard.  Stiles' encouragement had been so effective, that all of Beacon Hills seemed to quake with the sound of the roar that came out of the PA system.  When the two boys, high on adrenaline, flew out of the school, it was to the sight of Derek glowering at them.

"I'm gonna kill _both of you_ ," he growled, jabbing a finger angrily at them.  "What the hell was that!  What are you trying to do?  Attract the entire state to the school?"

"Sorry..." Scott said, although he wasn't looking or feeling too sorry at all in that moment.  "I didn't know it would be that loud."

"Yeah, it was loud!" Stiles said, nodding with a grin on his face like he'd accomplished something huge.  "And it was _awesome_...!"

He said that last part in a sing-song voice.  Derek's expression only darkened.

"Shut up."

"Don't be such a Sour Wolf...!" said Stiles.

It was in that moment, Scott happened to look around Derek's shoulder and noticed that the back door to the Camaro was open, and Deaton was missing.  He frowned.

"What'd you do with him?" Scott asked.

Derek turned and frowned at the empty backseat.  "What?  I didn't do anything!"

Just then, a deafening roar came from close by.  Immediately, Derek's wolf reacted, grabbing Stiles and pinning him between his backside and the Camaro. 

"Dude!" Stiles squeaked.  "What are you—?"

Derek shifted into his were form and his blue eyes glowed as he made a hissing sound.  Stiles sucked in a breath, his entire body tensing nervously, anticipating danger.  He was too stunned to yelp in surprise when the Alpha came charging towards them, seemingly out of nowhere.  When Derek lunged forward, Stiles found himself reaching out.  He just barely missed grabbing a portion of Derek's leather jacket.

"WAIT!" Stiles shouted, not knowing why he felt so distressed. 

Sure, he was concerned for the safety of both his best friend and Derek, but there was something more than that when it came to Derek.  He just couldn't articulate it yet in that moment. 

If it weren't for the fact that his adrenaline was pumping due to the very serious threat the Alpha posed, Stiles might have fallen into a full-on panic attack at the sight of Derek and the feral werewolf facing off against each other.  Especially because Stiles was having flashes of something similar to when he'd touched his soulmark.  Then it happened.  The Alpha managed to surprise Derek from behind and punctured a hole through his back before tossing him off to the side, seemingly without much effort.

"NO!" Stiles screamed, running towards where Derek had fallen. 

There was a moment of brief déjà vu Stiles experienced, where the scene before him flickered between Derek, as he was currently, seemingly lifeless on the ground and the small, black wolf Stiles had met years ago as a child, its leg hopelessly stuck in a steel trap.  Before he could get very far, he was grabbed by the arm and forcefully pulled back by a shifted Scott.

"Stop!" Stiles yelled, trying to wrench out of Scott's grasp.  " _Let go_...!"

"No!  We've got to run!" Scott said.  "Derek's _dead_ , Stiles!  There's nothing we can do for him now!"

"That can't be!" Stiles protested, his flailing about proving to be futile as Scott's were strength was enough to drag him further away from the fallen pureblood.  "There's no way!"

" _Come on_ , Stiles!" Scott said through gritted teeth as he finally won their short bout of tug-of-war, finally having pulled Stiles far enough away that the teen was finally convinced to run. 

The Alpha suddenly seeming to appear before him and blocking his view of Derek helping, of course.  It was like Stiles had been broken out of a trance.  Scott felt a twinge of guilt as they ran, side by side, and he happened to notice his friend's eyes were glassy. 

"Stiles—" he tried as they ran to find cover so they might have some time to figure out what they could do next.

" _Don't_ ," Stiles said in response, causing Scott to quiet and press his lips together in a firm line.

He knew that tone.  He'd known Stiles for long enough by then, after all.

 _I'll never forgive you_ , Scott heard, even though Stiles didn't say it out loud.  Notwithstanding the fact that he knew Stiles would get past it, eventually, like he always did, that didn't change the fact that in that moment it still stang. 

»»-------------¤-------------««

In his dream, Dean surveyed the area around him and frowned.  He was in a meadow of sorts, and for once it didn't feel like the dark and ominous atmosphere like he'd grown used to over the years, in his way of living as a demon hunter. 

_"Dean?"_

Dean glanced over to his right, where the sound of the voice had originated.  Dean blinked upon recognizing it was his brother.

" _Sam_ _?_ " he asked, tone somewhat incredulous.  "Where are we?"

Sam shook his head.  "No idea," he said.  "I thought you'd know."

"Last I remember, we were both settling down to try and get us some shut-eye," said Dean.

Sam nodded.  "That sounds about right," he said. 

"So then, _where are we?_ " Dean asked, looking around.  "What is this place?"

 _"Boys?"_

The brothers froze at first, unable to believe who it was they were hearing.  Both slowly looked towards where the voice had come from, their faces gradually showing equal amounts of surprise. 

" _Mom_ _?!_ " they both asked simultaneously.

Before them was who appeared to be Mary Winchester, although both boys knew better than to celebrate just yet.  It was the unfortunate reality of being in the business of dealing regularly with demons, after all.  They therefore dealt with every encounter with a great deal of skepticism.

"There's no time to waste, boys," their mother said.  "Hurry!"

When she moved, the boys quickly followed her.  "Wait!" said Dean.

"Mom!" Sam shouted.

As they ran, the scenery around them changed.  Neither brother would recognize where they were right then.  Their mother, or the semblance of her, took them to the Nemeton located in Beacon Hills, which was glowing an ominous shade of red.  As they drew closer, a gate began to form above the Nemeton, and then suddenly a horde of demons burst forth in tremendous number.  Both Winchester brothers shouted in surprise, neither of them prepared for the visual onslaught, and they each raised their arms up defensively, unprepared to do anything else.

The last thing either of the brothers heard was the sound of their mother's shouting above the din.  _"You must save them!"_ she exclaimed.  _"You must save them from tragedy!"_

It was in that moment both Dean and Sam bolted awake, upright in their respective beds, their bodies drenched in sweat from the night terrors and their breathing ragged.  Turning towards each other, both brothers shared a glance.

"Did you...?" Dean began.

"You were in my dream," said Sam.

Dean nodded.  "And you were in mine."

"You see Mom?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, giving his brother another nod.  "You see the Gate?"

He meant Hell's Gate.  Sam nodded too.

"Yeah."

The stone that the brothers had picked up for Araya glowed where it had been placed, on a nightstand between them.  Dean's eyes trailed towards it and he unconsciously flicked out his tongue, running it over his lower lip, moistening it.  He shook his head slightly and brought his gaze back to meet his brother's.

"I don't know what the hell this thing is," said Dean.  "But something tells me we shouldn't be handing this over to the Calaveras."

His brother didn't have to confirm it for Dean to know that Sam agreed, but he heard the concurrence in his younger brother's response.  "They'll come after us, you know."

Dean nodded.  "Yeah, I know," he said.  "But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Sammy."

"Mm.  All right, Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So grateful for the continued support—both actively and passively expressed—and for the thought out feedback from the readers who take the time to do so. As a writer, it’s always encouraging and uplifting to read how engaged people are, especially since this is just fanfic. And to all who are patient in waiting for updates, even after an extended period of time, I thank you all as well. Hope this chapter was worth the long as hell wait.


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